


The Truth, Part 11

by Seasider



Series: The Truth [11]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, star wars: all media types
Genre: Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Darth Vader’s A+ Parenting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Parent Darth Vader, Protective Darth Vader, Stylish Darth Vader, Stylish Luke Skywalker, Sunshine Luke Skywalker, Teenage Luke Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27073882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasider/pseuds/Seasider
Summary: Impulsive, fun-loving, trying-to-be-taken-seriously Luke is back with the Alliance and trying to balance his life between plotting the overthrow, studying the Force, being in the Alliance (but not a Rebel) and in the Empire (but not a spy) (at least not on purpose) and most importantly, maintaining the warm bond with his dad. Luke is 17. He’s not sure if Leia is his sister, and he’s hiding that possibility from his father.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Series: The Truth [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775602
Comments: 80
Kudos: 83





	1. Travelin’ Man

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to all my readers and commenters and inspiration-givers!  
> I ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ You!  
> And thank you, moledroane, who pointed out that Vader and Luke are enjoying their “found family honeymoon” time. Let’s hope it lasts!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 11, Chapter 1: Luke is off the Executor and heading back to the Alliance (while holding the honorary title of Commander in the 501st) but it’s hard to say goodbye to Dad Vader. Especially when Dad doesn’t want to let go either.

How was he going to _survive_ days and days of going in and out of hyperspace? Already the star-streaks were making him nauseous. Maybe some pie would help settle his stomach.

“No, Luke,” he scolded himself on behalf of his father. “The pies are for the guys…. I made a rhyme…. The whole poet-didn’t-know-it thing.” He sighed. There were a lot of educational tapes to choose from instead of pie. But he’d already sorted through them and… well, there was one actual _vid-tape!_ that was _music!_ which excited him for a moment until he figured out it was an _opera._ Opera, seriously. Why would his dad do that to him? Especially while condemning him to _days_ of boredom without even talking to him! Oh, sure, he could _feel_ their connection in some weird, barely-there way that was different from what he’d experienced before, but it wasn’t the same as being together. He wondered if his dad had seen the holo he left and if he liked the robe. It had turned out pretty decent for a replication, but….

Maybe he should sing. Or exercise, he hadn’t done that today.

Or not.

At least the pilot’s chair swiveled. He spun around, away from those horrible stars, and stared at the interior of Yahoo. It _was_ a sweet ship. There were tons of storage compartments— hah, how well his dad understood his needs!— and a comfy bunk. He could live on this ship—

But not for _days!_

A slice of pie was sounding better. Or maybe just a spoonful of chanilla. No one would know—

_Bug._

“Dad!” He whirled in the chair like he expected to see Vader’s helmet outside the viewscreen. “I mean, _Diva!_ Hi!”

_Stick with ‘Dad’, it suits you. And I like it._

“Okay.” He nodded pointlessly and sat up straighter, smoothing his tunic. “Can you hear me when I talk out loud? Or should I only talk in my head?”

_Did you say something?_

“I— oh, very funny!”

_As long as you think when you talk, I can hear you just fine._

“That’s always my problem! Everybody says I talk _before_ I think! I have to practice doing them at the same time. Or thinking first.” He wrapped his arms around himself because it was sort of—

_Get a blanket._

“How do you know I’m cold?” He grabbed a thermal blanket from one of the cubbies and draped it across his shoulders before returning to the pilot’s seat.

 _Space is cold._ Vader sounded subdued. _How are you feeling? Have you coughed? Do you have a headache? Or a fever? Keep warm. But not too warm. Maybe you need a nap. And just who is ‘everybody’?_

“Da-ad!” But the concern made him grin and pull the wrap up to his chin like he was snuggling in bed. “I’m fine, just bored. This is taking _forever!_ I may die of old age before I get to Yavin!”

There was a moment of silence. He wondered if his dad was busy with official duties. _You’ve only been gone a few hours, Bug._

“Well… it seems a _lot_ longer. There’s nothing to do— don’t say it! I know, I know, there are tons of tapes, but why did you give me _opera?_ I _hate_ opera!”

_I know it sucks, but you need some culture._

Luke giggled, then laughed so loudly that he drowned out the dull roar of engines. “Dad! I can’t believe you said that! You’re so funny!”

 _Darth Vader, Jokester._ There were a few seconds of silence. _Actually… Anakin Skywalker was something of a prankster. He knew how to… enjoy the moment._

It felt like all his nerve endings quivered. “Did he?”

_Oh, yes. Even an occasional practical joke he… I… played on… friends._

His hand went up to cover his mouth. Then it went over his eyes. Silly, it wasn’t as if anyone could see his emotions. There was just his father, who could _feel_ them. “So are you…. I mean…. I don’t know what I mean. Except… you know… are you…?”

 _All those tapes and you haven’t learned how to ask a question?_ The tone was teasing on its surface, but there was so much unspoken. _Well, if I may quote you: I don’t know, no, maybe, yes, I’m not sure._

His breath came out in a heaving sigh that had begun as a chuckle. “Oh, Dad! I’m so… _proud_ of you. You’re amazing whoever— whatever— you— Well. You know.”

_I know. Thank you for the… the robe. I’m wearing it now._

“Really?” He bounced a few times. Hey— not only did the chair swivel, it _bounced!_ “You really are?”

_Loosely, over my armor. I’m still ‘on duty’. But I’m in my quarters and wanted to wear it when I talked to you even though you can’t see me._

He Happy-Smiled and tried to Send it. “Why can’t we see each other? We should be able to! Maybe we can invent a way to do that!”

_It’s been invented and it’s ‘holo-calls’._

“Oh. Right. I guess… uh, my verbalization preceded my… conceptualization of my… uh….”

_I understand. A brilliant idea flew from your mouth before you could capture it._

“Okay. Anyway….”

_Luke, thank you for your message. Your words mean so much to me. They don’t have to be brilliant ideas when they come from your heart. We’ll talk more about the situation, of course, but for now I just wanted to say… thank you, Son. I love you and I miss you._

He was becoming entirely too teary! He’d never cried so much in his entire life as he had in the last several weeks. “Ditto,” he whispered.

_Yes, well…. Now, pay attention to your travel. How is Yahoo working out?_

“Fine. I just hate hyperspace. It looks weird and makes me dizzy. It _always_ does,” he added quickly. “Not just this time! My head is fine.”

_Raise the shields, Bug, so you don’t have to look at it._

“Yeah, but how will I… you know… _steer_ and see if there’s a problem?”

_Yeah, but... Luke, use the Force. You must be aware of your powers at all times. Haven’t we talked about this?_

“Yeah, b— I mean, yes, I guess we have, but sometimes people have to tell me things over and over before I remember. Especially at the base.”

 _You will retain more if you focus on what's being said instead of planning whatever cleverness you will utter next. It’s important, Luke— learn to_ _focus_ _._

“I know. I will.” He couldn’t stifle a yawn. “Sorry.”

_Take a nap. Don’t eat pie. Stay aware. Your escorts will alert you if anything occurs that you do not notice._

“Okay. Well… and you be careful too. And get that skin check done! And— and— just take care of yourself, okay?”

_I will, Bug. Talk to me anytime._

He leaned forward in the chair, activating the shields to cover the expanse of zooming stars. Yeah, this was much better. _So_ much better. His dad was clever and smart, just like him. Luke made himself get up, and he stumbled to the bunk for a short, satisfying nap. 

# # #

“I watched the opera,” Luke announced the next day. “It wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be. But I fell asleep in the middle. But I woke up again before the end! That was like… yoweeee! Everybody died! It was great! I might watch it again. Or at least the middle and end parts.”

_I thought it was dramatic enough to suit you, Bug._

“Is there just the one vid? I could get into this opera stuff.” He propped his feet on the console as he munched on a veg stick.

_I’m sure there are holo operatic channels, but many of them are not as exciting as this one. It is widely considered the best and is certainly the most popular._

“Huh. Well, I’ll look on the holo if the guys don’t object and throw me out. Actually, I wasn’t sure if that flappy thing died at the end or if it just flew away.”

_I believe that was intended to be open to interpretation._

“Yeah. Hey! Are there operas in the Underground Database?”

_Probably not any that I would approve for your viewing._

Luke grinned.

_Don’t you dare._

“Hey! Can you hear everything I think?”

 _Can you hear everything_ I _think?_

“No. Only if you Send it. Right? Okay, I get it.”

 _Okay,_ his dad echoed, making him smile again. _And please add ‘hey’ to your list of words to use less frequently._

“Fine,” Luke said resignedly, then wondered if he said ‘fine’ too often. “I will make a mental note of that.”

 _Good_. Now his father sounded distracted.

“Are you busy? What’re you doing?”

_Dealing with a problem that doesn’t concern you._

“All your problems concern me, Dad.” He pursed his lips. “You’re not killing somebody are you?”

_Not yet. But the possibility exists._

Luke shook his head. “Da-ad! Please don’t kill your crew members! You’re going to need all of them.”

_True._

Hah! That was resignation he heard. “Promise?”

_Don’t ask the impossible. But I will try._

“Try hard. Hey— I mean… when you’re done with whatever, I really need your help with something.”

_Of course. What is it?_

Yay, he’d distracted Vader. “I’ve been studying logic diagrams, and I’m getting confused about the overlaps. I don’t know if I’m interpreting everything right.”

_Let me see._

Hmm. He’d done this before, though he wasn’t sure how it worked. He held the datapad in front of him and _focused._ “How’s that?”

_Yes, I can see it. Let me study for a moment._

Well, it wasn’t exactly balls of fun, but it was interesting and he knew his dad enjoyed it as much as he did. Sort of. “What’re you doing now?” he asked when they finished reworking the diagram.

_Mmm. Try diagramming statistics next. There’s a tape about it._

“Of course there is. But what’re _you_ doing now? You didn’t kill anybody, right?”

_I am on the bridge. Everyone is still alive. We are readying to leave dry dock again, hopefully without drama this time._

Luke inhaled. “Really?” His tongue protruded a little as an idea came to him. “Let me see!”

His father hesitated, whether because of the command or because of what was happening on the Executor, then he Sent: _I haven’t taught you that yet._

“Why not? I should know!”

_Son, I have decades of experience. You can’t learn everything in two years._

He pouted since his father couldn’t see him. “This seems important! I should know this.”

_We will work on it, but it takes practice. And it only works between willing parties, so don’t try it with your Forceless friends._

“Geez, another thing I can’t do with friends!” He wrinkled his nose and grinned.

_Another burden, poor Bug. I must attend fully to my duties now. Have a snack—a healthy one, then exercise. And tug on my string anytime you want to say hello._

“Okay, but I just had a healthy snack! Anyway… same to you, tug when you want to talk!”

And now back to the boring trip. He wished he could talk to his escort pilots, but when he’d tried chit-chat, they’d kept it professional.

Well… maybe he had some professional questions. Couldn’t hurt to ask.

# # #

“Do you think we could do our head-meditating at a different time?”

_Anytime you want, Bug. Within reason. As long as it doesn’t disturb your rest cycle._

“No, I mean… could we meditate together like it was ten years ago? I would be seven and you would be Dad Anakin.” Luke rolled over in his bunk and gnawed on his lip. He’d been thinking about it all day, but wasn’t sure if his father would approve.

 _No,_ Vader Sent after an exceptionally long pause. _That’s a dream, not meditation, Luke. We can’t… fantasize… like that together._

“Okay.” He hunched over and studied his hands. “I just thought it would be….”

_I know._

“Hey! I mean… attention please! I haven’t looked at the personal tape you left. Not the _personal_ personal one, you know I saw that, but the other one that LeKauf was putting together. What’s on it?”

_Information I felt I needed to share with you. Such as battle scenes so you know what to expect—_

“Ugh.”

_— a tour of my Mustafar Castle and the planet—_

Luke sighed and twisted his bracelet around a few times.

_— and several other things, including a simulation of what the Death Star was intended to do to a target._

“So… all happy stuff then?” Sounded like things to watch when he was in a good mood and wanted to bring himself down.

_Things you need to know. Son, I must give my attention to work and you need to sleep. Can we talk tomorrow?_

“Of course— no, WAIT! Before you go— I forgot something! What if I start talking to you and you’re talking to Sidious. Can he hear me?”

There was a soft sound of amusement in his father’s mind. _No. He can’t communicate with me in the way you and I do. I would have to be in his presence for any type of mental contact, and even then it wouldn’t be as strong as this. Only you and I, father and child, have this capability._

“Okay.” That was a relief. “G’night then.”

But as he drifted into sleep, he wondered if Princess You-Know-Who would be able to have the same mental connection with his dad. Or with _him._

Huh.

# # #

Jumping jacks were his favorite. Or maybe just jumping. Exercising felt good, especially while stuck in this ship— his wonderful, _glorious_ ship, he Sent just in case Yahoo could hear him thinking— but jumping off pyramids was much more fun. That would be one of his first things to do back on Yavin.

_Get medical clearance before you go into the jungle. Especially the lung scan._

“Yessir!” Luke grabbed a towel and draped it around his neck, wiping sweat from his throat and face. “I’m glad I can talk out loud. It’s lonely in space.”

_I know, Son._

Of course. Who in the universe could be lonelier than Darth Vader locked inside that armor? “How’s the Executor?”

 _It hasn’t blown up so far,_ Vader said drily.

“Good!” He flopped in the chair and raised the shield to stare at the streaks. “This is my last jump.”

_You’ve done well._

“No kidding! _Four days!_ Who does that? Why is everything so far apart?”

_Many journeys are longer._

“Yuck. But you’re going to be close, right? Only an hour away. Where will you be?”

_The Vaal System. There is a remote Imperial Outpost, V-798, in that Sector, which is a logical base while we search for Rebel hideouts. Plus, we will be sitting right at the Yavin Bypass at Vaal. The Executor’s presence should deter other Imperial ships from searching nearby and discourage random civilian travel through the area. Although smugglers transporting supplies to Yavin may escape our notice._

“Phew! I’m glad you’ve thought all this through.”

 _Indeed. I was going to leave everything to random chance, but decided a bit of planning might be in order,_ his father teased. _How are you feeling?_

“Ack!” Luke rolled his eyes. “Dad, I’m fine!”

_Remember to be checked as soon as you arrive. Also, if any crises occur or you are feeling threatened or uncomfortable in any way, go to our home on Vjun._

“Da-ad!” Still, he smiled at _‘our home’._

_And if need be, you are also cleared for the Mustafar castle. You would hate it there, but it’s very secure._

“Fa-ther! Stop fretting! Geez!”

_I’m not fretting. I thought you might be anxious about your reception at the base since you’ve been gone much longer than anticipated. Perhaps they will not welcome you as you expect._

“Well… I _wasn’t_ anxious until just a second ago. Thanks a lot!”

_You’re welcome. Remember to wear your armor. And don’t forget to tell them not to move the base to Hoth._

“I remember!”

_And remember to be dignified and—_

“Dad, it’s _me!_ When am I ever _not_ dignified?” He whistled happily as he laid out his armor on the bunk. It was too quiet. “Are you still there?”

_I’m trying to think of a response._

“Silence is good.” Luke hesitated. “I guess I _am_ kinda nervous about seeing everyone. I haven’t decided on my dramatic entrance, but I have a few ideas.”

_Just don’t overdo it and get yourself shot._

“Ugh. Stop fretting!” He leaned back against the wall. “I should get ready.”

_Yes._

“I miss you. Let me know when I can come for a visit. I hope it’s not too long.”

_I’ll be nearby soon. Remember your objectives. Use your persistence and persuasion on the Alliance Council._

“I will.”

_And…._

“What?” Resigned, he sighed again.

_Have some fun. Remember your age and enjoy yourself._

He smiled widely. “Will do! Love you, Dad.”

_Ditto._

Luke laughed and shook his head again. Sometimes his DadVader was so… _Anakin!_

Which was wonderful… although he would take his father any way he could get him. Even if he stayed an unreasonable, murdering Sith Lord.

# # #


	2. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke’s dramatic return doesn’t turn out as dramatically as he’d hoped. But he’s with his Alliance friends, and Dad Vader is sitting on his shoulder whispering in his ear.
> 
> 🎊🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉 CELEBRATING THE 100TH CHAPTER🎉🎉🎉🎊🎊🎊  
> Never did I ever imagine Luke would demand my attention for so long!

Well.

The hangar in the large pyramid was nearly empty. No Red X-wings, no nobody— just a few older ships that were obviously under repair. And no one to greet him. 

Luke felt deflated. Maybe he shouldn’t have used an Alliance code and instead come in unidentified. At least there’d be curiosity seekers. Here was this magnificent, unique ship gliding in and no one—

Okay, there were a few mechs who lifted their heads from their jobs and were openly staring. “Yahoo, let’s show off a little.”

There was a narrow space on the far side of the hangar near the front that no one ever used except for ground vehicles. It was too narrow for snubs or X’s, and it was empty now. He could hover and back Yahoo into it because it...she?...he?... was aerodynamically slender and perfect. Like him.

Thankfully he remembered not to slip back so far that he couldn’t get the ramp down, which would have been embarrassing. He left his helmet aboard along with all the…. Luke sighed. _Luggage._ Call it what it was. He had lots of luggage. Plus the pies and chanilla. His fierce image would be ruined if he struggled with all that, and he wasn’t ready to use the Force to float everything. Demonstrating the Force called for an audience. A _big_ audience. Plus, he was _dignified_ now.

So he tugged the hood to shadow most of his face and descended the ramp. Without using a gesture, he thought the entry closed and thus Yahoo was sealed and impenetrable. Or maybe it was _impregnable_ like the Vjun castle.

An ensign stared at him. 

“Where is Red Squad?” he demanded. In a dignified way.

“Um….” She tried to peer under his hood, so he lowered his chin slightly. “On patrol… sir.”

“When are they due back, ensign?”

She kept staring. Maybe he should be flattered. “Probably about an hour, sir. Assuming you mean… Rogue Squad.”

What? He waited.

“They… Red Squad changed its name recently to Rogue. After the… you know.”

Yeah, he knew the Scarif story where the Rebels had thoughtfully retrieved the Death Star plans for his dad and gotten rid of that pesky Krennic while they were at it. “Get someone to help you and take my belongings to _Rogue_ barracks.” He waved his hand and Yahoo opened smoothly and silently— no banging or creaking for _his_ ship. “I want the packed bags as well as the contents of the cooler.”

Arms folded, he waited while she gestured to a mech who came over obediently.

“Clean your hands,” Luke instructed the older man, because absolutely no grease was going to smear his belongings!

The man wiped his hands on his pants. It looked sloppy and undignified, but Luke realized how often he’d done the same thing and vowed never to do it again. He watched until they had unloaded everything, struggling awkwardly, then he resealed Yahoo and followed them to the barracks.

The _empty_ barracks. Well, he could make good use of the time before everyone returned. He felt a gentle, quizzical touch from his father and realized guiltily that he hadn’t let his dad know he’d arrived safely. Although Vader undoubtedly already knew. He acknowledged the concern with a mental touch that was the equivalent of brushing their fingertips and felt his father’s satisfaction.

A quick inspection showed him that the larger Red 5 bunk was empty, so he directed his belongings there and nodded his thanks to his helpers who hurried off, probably to spread gossip about the mysterious stranger and his fantastic ship. The clothes he’d left were still in the tiny mech room, so he floated them into the 5… _Rogue_ 5\. Then, curious, he stuck his head into night shift’s quarters. All the rooms appeared to be abandoned, so he appropriated most of the hangars and began to unpack and smooth and hang up his beautiful clothes.

There was a lump in one of his satchels, and immediately he suspected what it was. _Oh, Dad!_ His father had snuck in the shaak fluffy. Luke rubbed his nose against the soft fur. He had left it on Vjun, thinking the guys would tease him if he brought it to the base. But now, seeing it and remembering…. With a little smile, he propped it against the pillow on his bed, not caring if anyone made fun of Berrie.

_You’re naming it Berrie? Why?_

_Because… you know. Naberrie. After Mother._

He could easily picture his father’s expression, that combination of sadness, happiness and regret that he always got when Padme was mentioned. _Is that okay?_ he asked, worried when his dad didn’t reply immediately.

_Of course, Bug. Berrie it is then._

His dad drifted off again, and Luke sighed happily. He loved their new connection— they were always there for each other, but it wasn’t intrusive because Vader’s contact was no longer unexpected, it was just _there._

However… there’d better not be a spy device in Berrie! It didn’t seem likely since his dad was defensive of everything about Padme. Still, he examined it carefully and was relieved to find nothing.

He finished hanging up his glorious clothes. There seemed to be more shiny garments than he remembered getting— Oh. He picked off gold sparkles from the black cape and flicked them on the floor. Might as well contaminate the barracks as well as Vjun, Yahoo, the Executor, and Darth Vader.

Task completed, he stood with balled hands at his waist and studied the main room. Great painting job. Now he was glad he hadn’t tried making stars on the wall. Although it could use some art or even posters. He should’ve stopped on Corellia and shopped.

Damn, the armor was hot, but he couldn’t take it off because he wanted everyone to see how serious and _fierce_ he’d become. He tucked the tub of chanilla into the cooler, shoving the beer to the side (some of it had to be taken out because… _priorities!)_ and left boxes of pies on the table, then sat on the sofa, heaving a sigh of satisfaction.

He could feel his friends weren’t nearby yet, and he was warm, the room was quiet, and he decided to lie down for just a few minutes, hood pulled over his eyes to shield them from the light.

# # #

The sound of voices woke him, but he kept his eyes closed, listening.

“—or maybe call Security?”

“Could be a pirate.”

“Or an Imp.”

“Nah, I think it’s just that kid— what was his name?”

“I dunno who— Oh, you mean _that_ one! I forgot what he looks like. I thought he wasn’t coming back.”

“Yeah. Where did he go anyway?”

“Dunno. He’s been gone so long, I don’t remember where he said he was going.”

Oh, very funny! Luke uncurled himself and stood, being sure the hood was still in place. He clenched his fists.

There were several seconds of silence before Janson asked, sounding a little uncertain, “Luke?”

 _Dignified!_ He had to be _dignified!_ With a toss of his head, the hood was flung back and he grinned. “Who else?”

They were all there, all his crew, looking exhausted— and probably hungry. Wes, Zev, Hobbie, Wedge, Porkins— even Commander Narra. They were smiling at him.

“Welcome back,” Narra said.

“Yeah, nice of you to join us,” Hobbie added caustically— typically— which only made Luke smile further.

Then, despite the fact that he looked dignified and therefore theoretically unapproachable, Wes and Zev both hugged him, and even Wedge nodded (not choking). Porkins was already at the table.

“Yeah, hi. What’re these? Hey—PIE!”

“Don’t eat it yet!” Luke warned. “There’s chanilla in the cooler.”

“What’s chanilla?” Janson asked distractedly, focusing on fingering the over-tunic Luke was wearing. “This outfit is awesome.”

“Thanks, I know!”

“Are you kidding?” Porkins yelped. “I would _kill_ for chanilla!” He grabbed the tub from the fridge. “It’s mine, all mine, I’m not sharing it.”

“Like hell you’re not,” Klivian declared. And just like that he and Pork and Wedge abandoned Luke.

“You’ve been gone for a month,” Narra observed, but not critically. “A bit longer than the week you intended.”

“Ugh, I’ve been traveling _forever!_ Days and days!” He rolled his eyes. “And I’m starving. Let’s all have pie.”

“Dinner is in an hour. You should wait until—” the Commander began, then shrugged when the others moaned at him. “Fine, pie it is.”

“So how was your visit?” Zev asked as they all sat around the table.

“Great! Awesome! I mean… well, awesome and awful sometimes, but mostly really great! I had a good time.” Except for the not-so-good moments, but they were just missteps on their journey and weren’t important any longer. “What’s been going on here? Why are you Rogue Squad now? Where’s Boss? Where’s night shift?”

“Night shift moved to the former Green barracks. Commander Dreis is with them. We’re still short pilots.”

“I’m a short pilot!” he joked as he watched Narra closely. “And ‘Rogue’?”

“Needed a new name, so Night could be Red.” The officer hesitated. “And we needed a mental boost after…. Did you hear about the attack on our Arda base?”

Luke nodded. “Dodonna and Willard were there?” So sad. Not.

Narra hesitated and Zev took over. “Yes. And that’s where Green Squad relocated.”

“Oh.” He licked chanilla from his fork, delaying the question, but…. “You mean…. Were they…?”

Zev nodded.

“Oh,” Luke said again. He scraped at the crumbs on his plate. He’d liked some of the Greenies, though he hadn’t known them well. But they were pilots like he was and his friends were, so.... “Was it a… big base?”

“Nearly this size,” Narra said evenly, and maybe Luke only imagined he heard an accusation. “It was a great loss.”

He bit his lip and nodded, not raising his eyes from the plate. “Yeah… well. That’s…. Where’s Bren Quersey?”

“You miss him? We don’t,” Zev said. “He switched to Red Night, but they couldn’t stand him either, so he’s in Gold now.”

“Huh.” It was sort of a relief. “Hey, did you see my ship?”

“Of course that’s _your_ ship!” Wedge said. “We tried to look, but— how did you get it into that tiny space? I want a tour.”

“Sure. It’s fabulous. My dad built it for me.”

Narra sighed and Luke looked at him pointedly. “Really? You’re going to start sighing at me again?”

“Okay, enough of this! We should be having a party, Luke’s back!” Wes said brightly. “We all have to shower before dinner, so let’s get going. And,” he told Luke, “we can use night shift’s old shower too. We have tons of space now!”

“And we can sleep there if we want,” Porkins said, eyeing the pie but refraining from a second slice. “But there’s no holovid.”

“Nobody sleeps there. We’re sticking together.” Wedge shrugged. “You can if you want.”

“No, I’ll stay here. I moved my things into Red— Rogue 5’s bunk.” He looked at Narra. “Okay?”

“That’s fine. And tomorrow—”

“It’s our day off!” Hobbie punched the air with his fist.

“Oh, good.” No work, hopefully no classes. No stress! Maybe he could sleep all day. “So what do you do on your day off?”

“Nothing, mostly. We’re not used to having days off yet.” Wes smiled. “Maybe we can go through your clothes— I’ll bet you have new ones.”

Luke shrugged modestly.

“I really like your...uh… outfit.”

“Armor,” Luke explained. “My dad decided I should have armor. It looks really cool, doesn’t it?”

“Fierce,” Wes agreed, saying exactly the right thing. “I like the leather belt or whatever. It looks like it goes around a few times.”

“A _lot_ of times. It’s good for hiding stuff, but it takes _forever_ to get dressed. You should see what’s underneath!”

“If you insist,” Janson said, and Luke tsk’d in pretend annoyance.

Narra shook his head, amused, but Luke knew he’d be in for an interrogation soon. Seemed like a guy couldn’t go see a Sith Lord without being cross-examined, even if it was his Sith Dad!

 _Former_ Sith. He had to think positively.

# # #

“Are you all right? You’re very quiet.”

He looked at Wes Janson and thought, _there’s nothing wrong with being quiet,_ but said, “Enjoy it while it lasts,” and smiled. Staring at the lump of unseasoned veggies on his plate, he speared a few pieces and ate without grimacing even though that was his immediate reaction.

He felt weird. Like he was in a different place, maybe even a different time, from everyone else. The mess hall chatter drowned out his thoughts, and intermittently his bracelet treated him to a tingle, but there were too many people to single out the… spy, he supposed.

Luke bit his lip. He missed his father so much. His chest felt tight, like missing him hurt his insides. Like it was digging a hole in his gut. _Dad? Can we go somewhere and meditate tonight? Maybe even your office?_

_Not tonight, Bug. You need to rest. You’re exhausted._

_All I did on the trip was rest and sleep! I’m fine!_

_Not that kind of exhaustion, Son. You need to re-acclimate to the people and surroundings. Spend time with them and then take some quiet time for yourself tonight. Remember you’re not alone. I’m always with you._

With a sigh, he put down his fork. “That was awful. New cook?”

“Same old, same old,” Zev said, across from him.

Had they been this quiet while he was gone? Maybe _he_ was the one who had started conversations and kept them moving along. “I’m done.” He stood and climbed over the bench.

“We’ll come with you.” Immediately Wes got up.

“That’s okay, I’m gonna stop and see Master Kodra for a few minutes.” He hoped that didn’t sound dismissive. “I won’t be long.”

Why did he add that? He would never need a babysitter because he kept doing it himself. “Or maybe I will be!” he added, and Wes gave him a understanding look.

Narra’s gaze followed him as he left the mess hall, and it was a relief to get outside. It was dark now, early, and Luke wondered if this was what Yavin called ‘winter’. If so, it was only slightly less sticky than the rest of the year and not a lot cooler.

A dim light glowed from Kodra’s training room, private quarters, whatever it was. Luke straightened his tunic— the _Jedi-like one,_ his dad called it— and stepped inside. Kodra was practicing katas with a bladed saber, and he watched for a few minutes until the routine was completed.

Kodra looked at him, but fortunately didn’t say anything obvious like _you are back._

“Hi! I’m back!” Great. He sounded like an idiot. “But you can see that.”

The Zabrak’s head cocked to one side. “You wish to practice?”

Ugh. “Not tonight. And… um, I have a day off tomorrow, so….”

“Ah. You will wish to practice all day then.”

Dismayed, he stared, then saw a glimmer of amusement. “Thanks, but no thanks. I need a day to recuperate. Can I come the day after?”

“Young master,” Kodra said, surprising the hell out of him with those words, “I am here for you, whenever you wish. Or don’t wish.”

“Oh. Thanks.” His foot began tapping and he stilled it. “Would you like some pie with chanilla? I brought some back.” _If there’s any left…._

Kodra freed his purple mane from a band and shook it. “No, such things are not to my taste.”

“Right. Not healthy.” Luke shrugged. “You probably don’t do anything that’s not good for you.”

One purple eyebrow lifted.

“I mean… you must do… _eat_ only healthy… stuff.”

The eyebrow raised higher just for a moment before the taller man relented. “I have been known to indulge,” he replied cryptically. “Now, be off! And next time you leave your barracks, remember your lightsaber.”

Oh. Right. “I know, it’s my life.” Stifling a sigh, he nodded and left. Wearing the lightsaber meant adding another layer, a jacket or cloak to hide it— at least until he came out to everybody as a Force user and could wear it openly.

 _Young master._ Hmm….

Instead of going directly back to Rogue, he detoured to the medical unit and wandered in. The smells reminded him of his dad’s treatment room. Which hopefully his father wouldn’t need forever.

“What d’you want?” A bald human, looking tired and clutching a large datapad under his arm, threw the question over his shoulder.

“Do you have a qualified trauma specialist here?” he asked politely.

“Kid, it’s a military hospital, what do you think?”

Reining in his automatic snapback, Luke waited silently.

The man looked at him and frowned. “Sorry. Why? Do you have a trauma?”

 _YOU might have one in a minute!_ “I did. I’m in recovery and need followup lung scans. I also need to talk to a trauma specialist about severe pulmonary damage.”

The medic or whatever he was appeared taken aback. “Oh… well, you can have a lung scan now, but if you come back tomorrow and ask for Dr. Andres, you can have the scan and get your questions answered at the same time.”

That was better. Some people needed attitude adjustments! Or maybe he, Young Master Luke Skywalker of the Skywalker Force Clan, was getting better at being taken seriously.

Everyone was settled in the barracks when he returned. The tub of chanilla had been scraped clean, and only half of one pie remained.

“We saved it for you,” Porkins said when he entered, but flushed when Hobbie emitted a sound of disbelief.

“Thanks, but you go ahead.” He turned to Commander Narra who was sitting at the table playing poker with Wedge. What the hell, why not ask? “Command isn’t still planning on moving the base to Hoth, are they?” he questioned innocently.

“What? Hoth?” Zev exclaimed. “It’s freezing there! Commander…?”

“Hoth?” Wes echoed. “Hey— cold weather ponchos!”

Narra caught the sigh as it was halfway out his mouth. “Well... evidently not now.” He sent a chastising look to Luke, who smiled sweetly.

“Good. We need to stay here. And I need to talk to the Alliance Council.”

Wes laughed a little. “And the Council says, just who _is_ this kid?”

Luke stood very straight. “Luke Skywalker, at your service,” which shut everybody up because he’d said That Name.

“I fold,” Narra said, putting down his cards.

_And there’s your dramatic entrance, Bug. A little late, but extremely effective._

Luke grinned and reclaimed his old place on the sofa.

# # #

  
  



	3. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is back with the Alliance and the spotlight is on him. But this time, he’s not as comfortable with the attention as he walks the line of loyalty between his Rebel friends and Dad Vader.

The guys were lumps in front of the holo after finishing off the remnants of the pie. Luke felt righteous for not having another piece— maybe even gracious. He retreated to his bunk to finish unpacking the carryall. When he’d left here, it had contained toiletries and little else, but it was a lot heavier now and he was anxious to see what his dad had added.

Oh… krit. He forgot he’d crammed the new educational tapes in it. No wonder it was so heavy. He frowned and heaved a big sigh of disappointment. Still, there was the tape LeKauf had added, full of battles and killing and other depressing things. _Honestly, Dad!_

But there was more, and it was— a holoprojector and two holoframes! Maybe it was the snaps of him. Mentally, he groaned. For a short while he’d forgotten about the spy. Now he’d always have to look good every single time he stepped out of the barracks.

Maybe he’d just stay inside. He could repaint the walls.

Deciding to save them for a more private moment, he put the projector and frames on the bedside table and kept unpacking. There was the code cylinder for the DadBase— yeah, that’s what he would call the Underground Database. DadBase. Much more efficient. He slid it into the pocket of the boot he’d wear tomorrow. Maybe. He had such a big wardrobe now, he might change his mind about what to wear. Clothing choices made life more complicated. But he wasn’t complaining because the finished product always looked gorgeous.

There was nothing more new in his bag, and he felt a little disappointed— then immediately felt guilty about his greed. He hadn’t really expected anything more. He hadn’t even expected the holo stuff.

“Knock, knock.” Wes and Zev poked in their combined heads. “Are we disturbing you?”

“No, just unpacking.”

Zev sat on the other end of the bed, but Janson went straight for the clothing and began to slide the hangars aside as he examined each one. “I _love_ this,” he exclaimed about the short black cape. “Is it new? Can I borrow it sometime?”

“Sure. But not yet. I may need it for something important.”

“Like when you meet with the Alliance Council?” Zev laughed uneasily. “Why would they meet with you? Or weren’t you serious?”

“He can’t tell whether you’re teasing.” Wes held up the puffy-sleeved shirt. “If I work out more, this will fit me.”

“Or you could go on a diet,” Zev murmured, earning a glare from Janson.

Luke looked between them. Huh. Something was going on, but he didn’t really want to know.

“Well?” Zev persisted.

Luke shrugged and didn’t reply. They were quiet for a few moments until Wes abandoned the clothes and said brightly— “Oh, look! What’s this?”— and snatched Berrie from the pillow.

“Hey! Put that back!” Luke grabbed the fluffy and replaced it, smoothing its furry head.

“What is it? I mean… what kind of animal is it supposed to be?”

“It’s a shaak. They live on Naboo.” Time to lead them in another direction. “I named him Berrie after my mother. She got it for the… baby. Me. My dad saved a box of things she had.”

“Oh, hon,” Wes said softly, forcing Zev over so he could squeeze between them. “That’s so sweet.”

Luke nodded sadly, confident that he’d led them off the path of discussing the Alliance Council. He sighed. “It would’ve been nice to grow up with a mom.”

“It would have been nice to grow up with a father, too,” Zev said shortly.

“Zev!” Wes slapped his knee.

Luke had to look down because otherwise he would have rolled his eyes. “So what’ve you two—”

“Oh!” Wes interrupted too obviously. “Is that a new bracelet?”

“Yes.” Pleased that the wider band had been noticed, he held out his arm. And hoped that neither of them interpreted the symbols as _501 501 501 501...._

“Nice! And what are the pictures?” Janson looked expectantly at the holoframes. “Vacation snaps?”

He had to laugh. _If only!_ “I don’t know, I haven’t looked at them yet.” He picked up one and turned it toward him. “Don’t watch! It might be private.”

“Don’t watch, Zev,” Wes said, punching Senesca lightly on the arm.

“Yes, Mom.”

Oh krit, they were nauseating. Luke decided he would never fall in love if this was what it looked like. _If_ that was what was going on, because he didn’t trust his relationship sensing ability any more. Maybe they didn’t even like each other. He used his hand to shelter the holo from them and turned it on.

It was taken in the dressing room in the Vjun castle. His dad told him there were no spy cameras there! Although as soon as he thought it, he realized the snap was reversed, a reflection in the mirror. Maybe his dad _wore_ a camera. At any rate, it was his suitless father, dressed in the magnificent, elegant blue robe, standing behind Luke with one hand on his shoulder, smiling slightly. Luke’s image wore the beautiful black cape with gold embroidered fasteners that glittered in the bright light of the dressing room.

No one would know this was Darth Vader. Proudly, he turned the frame around and showed them.

“Is that _him?”_ Wes exclaimed, taking it in his hand. “Wow, he’s tall!”

Oh. “Well… I was scrunched down a little,” he fibbed. “Getting ready to… change my boots.”

“Still… he’s not bad looking,” Zev said grudgingly.

“He’s bald,” Wes added— because they couldn’t see that!?

“That’s why I’m letting my hair grow. So he can have some of it.” Luke hesitated and lowered his voice. “If I tell you something, promise not to repeat it?”

Zev shrugged. “Of course,” Wes declared, glaring pointedly at Zev.

“Well….” He calculated his words for maximum effect. It was time to begin the rehabilitation of Darth Vader. “He’s a burn victim. All his… um, hair follicles were destroyed so he can’t grow hair.”

Wes’s face reflected dismay while Zev winced and looked away. “I’m sorry, kid. That’s horrible.”

“What’s horrible?” Commander Narra asked as he and Boss appeared in the doorway.

Luke sighed. Barely a half-hour of peace!

“Luke’s father is a burn victim,” Wes offered. So much for promising not to tell. “But he looks good in this picture. Aside from no hair.”

“Uh….” Narra and Dreis exchanged a look. “That’s terrible though. Was he badly burned?”

 _Oh, Dad, I hope you’re okay with this!_ “Yes,” he replied shortly, scooping up Berrie without thinking. Then he grabbed the frame from Janson before the commanders could examine it.

_Whatever you need to say, Bug._

He looked at the second frame, confident that his dad wouldn’t give away his true identity. This was another dressing room snap, both of them wearing ivory, Vader sitting on the bench while Luke stood, artfully rearranging the shoulder folds on his dad’s long cloak.

“That’s the cloak you got in Coronet City!” Wes squinted at the holo. “Stars, it’s gorgeous! Look at the crystals! Like father, like son.”

“Crystals?” Boss repeated with a note of disbelief.

Luke handed him the frame and watched as he and Narra bent their heads over it, studying like it would give away some vital information. “He really likes it.”

“Nice,” Narra said, possibly sincerely, and handed it back to him. “Why don’t you come and join the rest of us? You can bring your… uh, friend.”

Luke flushed as he realized he was still clutching Berrie. “It’s a shaak, a native animal of Naboo.” He propped the chubby fluffy on the pillow, arranging its four legs to hold him mostly upright.

“Its name is Berrie.” Evidently Wes Janson had decided he was Luke’s personal spokesperson. “It was a gift from his mother.”

“Your mother?” Boss looked at him as they shuffled through the narrow doorway. “I thought she was… er….”

“Yes, she died.” Wes patted Luke’s arm. “She bought this for her unborn baby… our little Luke here.”

 _Our little Luke?!_ He sighed.

“Was her name Berrie?” Boss asked, entering the living area.

_Dad? Okay?_

He figured no answer was an answer. “Her surname was Naberrie. Padme Naberrie Amidala Skywalker.”

“That’s quite a mouthful.”

Yeah, almost as bad as Luke Lars Loneozner Skywalker-Vader.

Porkins looked up from his card game. “There was a Queen Amidala. I read about her in the Examiner.”

“And she was a senator in the Republic days— years ago. A traitor,” Hobbie added. “I read the same article. It said she was pregnant when she died.”

“Or not,” Porkins added after a pause. “Was that your mother?”

Luke shrugged because they were all looking at him. He dropped onto the sofa.

“So you’re trying to hint that your father was a Jedi and your mother was a queen-senator?” Hobbie frowned. “Do we look like we were born yesterday?”

 _“You_ don’t,” Wes mumbled, but he looked expectantly at Luke.

He shrugged again.

“Nobody’s going to believe the poor-little-orphan-becomes-fairytale-prince story,” Klivian snapped.

“I do!” Porkins leaned forward. “Was she beautiful? How did they meet? I heard that Jedi weren’t supposed to marry. Were they married? Or was it a forbidden affair that ended badly when she got pregnant and was kicked out of the Senate and your father was thrown out of the Jedi and they both ran away to somewhere exotic and you were born secretly and she was killed in a tragic—”

“Give it a rest, Pork.” Wedge rubbed his face. “I’ve got a headache.”

“It’s a chanilla crash! You ate too much.”

“Whatever, just lay off Luke.”

Wedge for the save! Good thing Wedge didn’t know that Luke had choked him a couple times. “Thanks.” He pulled up his legs— but he couldn’t sit in his protective huddle any longer. He wasn’t a child. He was a Force user on a mission. Still, the sofa was too deep to be comfortable, so he wriggled around until he was cross-legged. Zev and Wes joined him, and he sent them an irritated look. “Don’t crowd me!” Unsurprisingly, they ignored him.

Boss and Narra settled in opposite chairs, both stretching out their legs and propping their feet on the low table. “So what’s your father like?” Boss asked, fake-casual. “Describe him in one word.”

_Only one? Good luck, Bug._

Luke smiled. “I don't know if I can do that in one word. Maybe… intense.”

“Ooooo,” Janson shivered and licked his lips, and Luke scowled at him.

“Don’t be gross! We’re talking about my dad,” he reminded. “Yeah, intense. Or maybe driven is a better description. Brilliant. Intelligent. Clever.” He was warming to the task, feeling his dad’s amused approval. “Brave. Strong. Fierce. Powerful.” _Loyal… violent…. Well, maybe not._

_Don’t overdo it, Bug._

“He’s amazing.” All his words hit him at once, and he had to blink back— _krit! Tears?!_ He had to stop being such a crybaby. He was being ridiculous, just like his dad said.

“Aww,” Wes leaned around Zev and patted his knee. “You miss him.”

He nodded. Hobbie muttered, “He’s an Imperial.”

“And?” Zev drawled. “What’s your point? How many of us have family and friends who are Imperial? Or at least not with the Alliance.”

“Yeah.” Wedge, supportive again. “If that new ship of yours is Imperial-built, I want to look it over. Especially if we’re going to come up against something like it.”

“You won’t.” Luke shook his head. “He had it fabricated and built for me. I helped finish it. It’s one of a kind.”

“All the more reason to see it,” Boss said lightly. “I’m intrigued.”

 _Yeah, I’ll bet._ “Tomorrow,” Luke said. “I’m tired, it’s been a long… while. I’m turning in early.”

He waved to them as he headed back to the safety and privacy of his bunk. It wasn’t a lie— he was exhausted, mentally more than physically. All he wanted was to curl in his bunk with Berrie.

# # #

Once in his star-spangled pajamas, he shoved the bed against the wall. That would give him extra room to get dressed (maybe he could find a full-length mirror), plus… well, he could wriggle over and press his back on the wall so it would feel more like his dad was holding him. Or his mother. When he was a small child. Possibly in a crib.

Clutching Berrie helped with that mental picture. He snapped off the light and settled down, pulling up the blanket that he really didn’t need, but it made him feel cozy and warm and glad he didn’t have to get up early in the morning. Tiredly, he reached out for his dad, figuring Vader would be sleeping. And sure enough, but his dad was only dozing lightly and automatically acknowledged his presence.

_See? Fantasizing can work. I’m… two._

_Then go to sleep, my abnormally overgrown baby._

_I’m not sleepy enough yet._ Luke clutched Berrie under his chin. _I feel…._

_You’re frightened._

_No, I’m not afraid! We’ll be fine. We’ll destroy him._

He felt a caress in his mind almost like his hair was being stroked. _Your feelings are not about our plan. You’re frightened now, at the base. It feels unknown to you again._

 _I guess._ Luke opened his eyes. There was light seeping in under his door. The others were still up and probably would be for hours. He liked the light. It made him feel safe, like family was just on the other side of the door.

_When I first came here, I was Oz. He had an attitude and I could… hide behind it, I guess. Now I have to be someone else._

_Now you are you._

_Yeah. Sort of. But I feel different from when I left._

_You ARE different. You are stronger in the Force. More secure in your heart. You understand that you are wanted and loved— that you were wanted and loved before you were born. Let that knowledge drive away your fear. You are finally free to be the person you always should have been and truly are— Luke Skywalker. Remember that._

_Okay_. He smiled just a little as his eyelids drooped again. _Are you going to sleep now?_

_Yes. And so are you. Pretend I just burped you. Good night, little one._

He giggled softly and was tempted to ask for a bedtime story or a lullaby, but that might be pushing it. _Night, Dad._

He considered that nothing seemed quite as frightening and the prospect of tomorrow not quite as daunting when his father was just a thought away. _Thanks._

Still, sleep came slowly.


	4. Luke and the Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crabby Luke has a visit with the doctor. (Warning: I don’t know what I’m talking about, so here comes made-up medical stuff)

# # #

“Aren’t you coming to breakfast?”

Luke pulled the blanket over his head. “‘m sleeping,” he mumbled. “Can’t a guy have any privacy around here?”

“Sorry! Don’t kick me in the ass just because I’m concerned,” Zev snapped before he yanked the door closed— loudly.

“Sithspit.” Great, now he was awake. His day off and he was awake with no hope of falling back asleep even though he was still tired and more than a little cranky. Plus, he had a sleep-headache.

_You need to eat, Bug._

“Are you _kidding_ me? You’re going to _nag_ me from a distance? About _eating?”_

_Yes._

With a disgusted sigh, he sat up and looked at the chron. By the time he figured out what to wear and got dressed, breakfast would be over anyway. Maybe he’d just throw on a jumpsuit and his work boots to grab a bite. Yeah. That would serve the spy right.

_Fine. I’m going, I’m going._

_Remember the bodyglove. And don’t forget your lightsaber._

_There’s nowhere to hide it— All right, FINE!_ _But I’m NOT combing my hair!_

_Look in the mirror before you go with that._

_Oh—_ Yeah, probably not a bad idea.

In fifteen minutes he was out the door, wearing his snappy black and brown Sithly outfit and his matching mid-length cape, face washed and hair neatly combed, heading for the mess hall. But he was distracted halfway there when he hurried past the clinic and then decided to backtrack. He straightened his tunic and marched in, glad he’d rejected his initial plan of a jumpsuit.

“I’m here to see Dr. Andres.”

“Hooray for you. He’s busy.” This wasn’t the same clerk that had been here yesterday. Same attitude though. “He has a slot open in forty-five. Name?”

“Mine?”

The woman looked up at him, her face impassive. “No, genius. Mine.”

Great. Was everyone in med a smart-ass? “Uh….” Well, krit. What name was he supposed to use? They had records, so he supposed.... “Loneozner,” he muttered, deeply resigned to being stuck with Fixer’s name forever.

The name was entered into a pad and subjected to a few clicks. “Have an injury?”

“No, thanks, I already have one.” Medics weren’t the only ones who could have an attitude. But her lack of expression said she didn’t think he was funny. “I need a lung scan and some questions answered.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

She shook her head. “Forty-five minutes. Be here five minutes early or lose your place.”

 _Really, how rude!_ When he was in charge, he would— No, wait. He wouldn’t be in charge. Or maybe he would. Whatever.

That had taken so long he’d missed the hot breakfast. There were still people lingering over caf, so Luke grabbed a cup and a pastry— after checking that Kodra wasn’t around to see his choices. Silently, he dared his father to utter a criticism. Hearing nothing, he decided the Dark Lord had other things to keep him busy at the moment, like commanding the galaxy’s biggest ship.

Hey! Brilliant idea! He took a plate and piled donuts on it, pretending not to see the glares from people lining up for refills. “What the hell, kid!” someone protested, but he didn’t answer and made a fast escape with his booty.

The carpentry/paint shop was noisy and dirty, but the paint-lady saw him enter. She pulled off her shield. “Whatcha got there?”

With a grin, he offered up the plate. Like magic, a small crowd appeared and the donuts disappeared. “Just a little thanks for the paint.”

“Which you didn’t use. I saw the cans come back unopened.” She took a bite and licked off the dark cream that oozed from the center of the pastry onto her fingers. Her _paint-spotted_ fingers.

He flinched, but watched in fascination as she ate the paint too. “Yeah. I got scolded. My name’s Luke.”

“Hi, Luke. I’m K’riade. Well, unauthorized creativity is generally banned in the military.”

“So I learned.” He bestowed his most charming smile on her. “I’m looking for info. It’s not your department, but I thought you would know who I should ask.”

She tilted her head. “I figured you needed something. Donuts are a good prepayment. What’re you looking for?”

“A full length mirror.” He felt his cheeks warm. “For my, um, quarters.”

One gray eyebrow raised as she studied at him assessingly. “Yeah, I can see that you could use one.”

 _“What?”_ Shocked, he looked down. “What’s wrong? Is something—?”

“You’re fine, hon.” She patted his arm. “But you’re a fashion-plate and you deserve a mirror. Leave it to me. Where do you bunk?”

“Rogue. Number Five.” His bit his lip, pleased.

“Huh. Pilot or mechanic?”

“Varies. Depends on how much trouble I’m in at any given moment.”

K’riade laughed. “Okay. Consider it done, l’il darlin’.”

Luke knew he was blushing. “Thank you!” Impulsively, he hugged her, then left before he made himself look even sillier.

# # #

Back with five minutes to spare! This time he smiled nicely at the clerk. She beckoned him to her desk. “Right thumb.” The ubiquitous syringe appeared. Wherever he went, someone wanted his blood. How he’d managed to escape without being stuck when he’d arrived he could only ascribe to his fierce bounty hunter appearance.

“Your _other_ right thumb,” she said when he held out his left hand.

He opted not to offer a quip. “It’s a prosthesis.”

She said nothing but seemed to poke him extra hard. The tiny pipette released and vanished into a slot on the wall next to her desk. And apparently that was that. Luke remained standing until she gave him The Eye, so he plunked down in an uncomfortable chair that looked like it had been recycled from a garbage dump.

Minutes passed. He tried to look everywhere but at her. People came and went. More minutes passed. More than five. Luke drummed his fingers on his knee. She ignored him.

Finally a man appeared. “Loneozner?” he called, even though Luke and Ms. CrabbyPants were the only people in the room.

“Yes.” Oh, please— _this_ was the doctor? This guy was barely ten— well, maybe fifteen years older than Luke, with shaggy blonde hair that needed styling, the tiniest excuse for a goatee ever grown on anyone’s chin, and his clothes— Ugh! A sagging green scrub jacket half-covering what appeared to be an orange t-shirt and mustard yellow pants. And dirty boots that seemed to have, sweet Sith! spots of dried blood on them.

“I’m Dr. Andres. This way.”

Luke nodded and followed, thankful the guy didn’t hold out his hand for a shake because who knew where that hand had been. He was led into a small office with a desk, two chairs, an exam table, and faded models of assorted open torsos from different species. Maybe he should spend some of his pre-inheritance on refitting the medical center.

“Loneozner, hmm? Not much information on you. Redid your blood because there seemed to be some errors with the previous draws.”

He stifled a sigh. “Seventy-five percent human, twenty-five percent unknown, right? Although we prefer the terms ‘organic’ and ‘energy’.”

Andres looked up from his readout. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“People like me,” he answered a little testily. “People who are… hybrids.”

 _Hybrids?_ his father questioned. _An interesting description._

_Is it too much to expect some privacy?? Anywhere!? At any time at all???_

_Yes._

“At any rate, this sample indicates seventy-two percent human… sorry, _organic,_ and twenty-eight percent… energy.”

“Oh.” What?

_You needed a transfusion, Bug. This doctor should already have your information and know this._

“I had a transfusion?” he asked both of them. _Why didn’t I know that?_

“When did you have a transfusion? Where did the donated blood come from? What species? We should keep a supply on hand.”

_I didn’t want to worry you._

_Worry—_

“I— wait.” _Dad… did you give me some of YOUR blood?_

_Of course._

_But… so… are you… less than fifty/fifty now? Did I take some of your midichlorians? Are you… less?_

_It doesn’t work that way, Bug._

“Well, I have no idea how it works.”

“How what works?” The doctor put aside his datapad.

For once, he was at a loss for words. “Uh… nothing. I don’t know anything. At all. Ever. About anything. It’s all a giant mystery to me.”

The sharp gaze focused on him. “I see you’ve requested a lung scan. Why? Did something happen to you?”

 _No, I just want a snap of my lungs to put in a frame and admire._ Before he could say that, his father interrupted.

_He should have received a fee-yee-oh about your injuries and treatment._

“Fee-yee-oh?”

“Pardon?” The physician frowned with open concern. “Let’s get you on the exam table.”

_No. F-Y-E-O. For Your Eyes Only. An encrypted medical report. It was forwarded to him last night._

Luke didn’t move from the chair. “A fee-yee-oh. For Your Eyes Only. Didn’t you get a medical report about my injuries?”

Andres leaned back in his chair. It creaked and wobbled dangerously, and he straightened hastily. “I have nothing on ‘Loneozner’.”

“I use a lot of names.” Geez. “Lars?” Evidently not. He wasn’t even going to suggest ‘Vader’, which left…. “Is this confidential? I mean, whatever I say here? You won’t repeat it?”

“I deal with a lot of confidential information.” When Luke didn’t respond, Andres added: “I won’t repeat anything. If it’s classified, your information will be encrypted.”

 _It already is. I think._ “Okay. Skywalker.” Honestly, he was so confused now. Was his name confidential or not? His dad said he could use it, and he’d said it in the barracks to the guys, but should he say it to everyone? Was it still a secret or should he just paint it on a flag (blue with gold stars) and wave it around?

Oh! Maybe he could get a uniform in blue with gold stars! Like his baby blanket! That could be his dad’s new uniform, too! _Dad—!_

 _We’ll see._ Which surprised the heck out of him.

“Skywalker. Yes, I read it this morning. You’re younger than I expected.”

Luke stared at him.

“For an undercover operative,” the doctor added. “You’re… seventeen?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long have you been undercover? If you don’t mind my asking. It may be relevant to your current condition.”

He curbed a hysterical laugh, maybe a bit unsuccessfully. “Pretty much all my life!”

The medic studied the datapad. “You had some serious injuries. Toxic substance inhalation… lung infiltration… concussion… a nick to the superficial femoral artery— damage to the femoral artery itself was suspected, but… apparently that was a misdiagnosis. Odd….” The doctor frowned. “Still, that must have been the reason for the transfusion. A bit puzzling. All in all, you were very lucky. How are your superficial wounds healing?”

“Uh...okay. I was in bacta a few times.” Maybe this doctor was okay. Too bad he wasn’t neater. Maybe Luke could give him advice on his appearance.

“Yes, I see that.” The doctor scrolled down. And down. How long was this report?

_Dad? Do I want to read this?_

_No. Lots of medical terms. It would only cause you to become neurotic and possibly develop hypochondria._

Luke rolled his eyes. _Dad! Anyway… what really happened? Why the transfusion?_

Vader’s hesitation lasted too long.

_Dad!_

_Apparently,_ his father admitted grudgingly, _I was able to heal a life-threatening tear to your artery that occurred when I pulled you out._

 _WHAT?_ Luke sat up very straight. _Did you say— You HEALED me??? Dad!!!_

_Well…._

_DAD!!!_ He was so happy, he bounced in the chair. _You used the Light! You did it! You did it! YAAAAAAY!!!!_

_Hrmph. Well… apparently yes._

Luke grinned and giggled before remembering where he was.

Dr. Andres was watching him closely. “Do you have these episodes often?”

“What episodes?” Oh, great.

“You… appeared distracted. Or… elsewhere,” the man said with what he probably considered to be delicacy.

“No, I’m fine! I was just… talking to someone.”

Another someone rapped on the door. “Doctor, your next appointment is here.”

“Reschedule it, please, Dileen.” Andres still watched him. “Is the person you’re talking to here in this room right now?”

His father chuckled.

“No! I—” He waved his hand. “Never mind! I’m not crazy, I’m a Force Sensitive, okay? I can talk to people in my head. Can we just get on with the lung scan?”

After a hesitation, the medic stood and said: “Very well. I want to take a look at your other injuries too. Stand behind that screen and remove all metal that you have on your person.”

Well. He sighed. “There’s my belt and everything on it.” Like the lightsaber. “And the fasteners on my cape.”

“Please remove them.”

Luke didn’t stir. “And my bracelet. And my right hand is a prosthetic.”

It was the doctor’s turn to sigh a little. “Your hands won’t be in the scan.”

“Okay, well… what about my bodyglove?” He opened the cape and unfastened the top two buttons of his tunic to show off his under-armor. “It’s really hard to get on and off.”

“Tell you what,” Andres said, “why don’t you come back later without all your accoutrements? Be prepared to strip. I’ll scan you then and check your other injuries. If the results are negative, we’ll recheck you in a week.”

“Okay!” He fastened his top and flicked a newly-acquired piece of lint off his cape.

“Since you had a mild concussion _and_ spent several days in space travel, I want you to rest for three days. Have you had headaches since your trauma?”

“Sometimes. Not bad though.”

“All right.” Behind his desk again, the medic entered information into his pad. “Three days, no work, no strenuous activity, bed rest recommended, and—”

“Wait!” Luke panicked. “I have stuff to do! I work! I fly! I have fighting and swordsmanship classes, I like to—”

“No,” the doctor said. “I want you resting, lying down or—”

 _“Lying down?”_ he repeated incredulously. “You mean _lying_ -lying down? Or can I be sitting lying down? Or doing things really carefully? Maybe hiking a little? Outdoors— that’s healthy. And fresh air is good for me. Can I—”

“Sixteen hours a day.” The scrub-covered arms folded. “Rest.”

 _“Six—_ That includes nighttime, right? Sleeping?”

“No. Eight hours sleep and sixteen hours rest.”

“That’s overkill! What will I _do?_ That’s _forever!”_

“That’s three days, beginning after you take off all the metal— except for your hand— and come back for a scan. You can nap, watch the holo, read—”

 _Study,_ his dad interjected.

“—anything that doesn’t require a lot of physical movement. If your headaches continue, contact me. If you cough, contact me.”

“You sound like my dad,” Luke groaned.

“Are you off duty today?”

He nodded.

“I’ll wait to contact Commander”— Andres checked his notes— “Narra to advise him of your restrictions until after your scan. That’s all.”

“No! No, wait! I have a bunch of questions!”

“About?”

“Like… about organ replacement and stuff….”

_Luke, that can wait until you are fully healed._

The doctor hesitated. “When you come back for your scan, you can ask your questions. Right now I have other patients waiting. So— off with you!”

 _Fine._ Anyone who would wear mustard yellow pants shouldn’t really be telling Fashion Luke what to do. And now he’d have all that time—

Maybe he could try on clothes and practice mixing and matching them. Maybe he wouldn’t ask the doc for permission and risk a ‘no’. “Okay, I’ll be back. But I’ll need extra time because the questions are for a… friend. About lung replacement and cloning and stuff like that.”

“I see. The easy ‘stuff’.” With a martyred sigh, Andres looked at his datapad. “Fourteen hundred then. And rest in the meanwhile.”

He managed to hang onto to his evaporating courtesy and nodded before leaving. _Dad! What the hell?!_

_Language._

Luke frowned. _Why? Why did I come back here just to be put in confinement?_

 _If I could have kept you here to recover, I would have, Bug._ Vader sounded regretful. _But I deemed it necessary for you to get to relative safety quickly._

 _I know._ Their lives would be so different once Palpatine was out of the way! _Thanks, Dad._

_I almost think you mean that. Now get back to your barracks and obey the physician. Relax._

Relax. Ugh. It was going to be a long three days. But right now, he was going to take a nap. Because sometimes he just wore himself out.


	5. He’s Got Attitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke isn’t doing great when it comes to fitting back in with Rogue Squad. But he has a conversation with his dad and a visit with the doctor, so the day isn’t a complete failure. Yet.

“How did you _do_ that?” Wes Janson put aside the pad he’d been reading.

At first he’d had been relieved to see that only Wes and Zev and Porkins were in the barracks, thinking that no one would cross-examine him about anything. But maybe not. “Do what?”

“You got a mirror! How did you find it? Can I use it, too? I’m tired of always having to use the ‘fresher mirror. Especially when Certain People are in there.”

“I just asked for one. And of course you can use it.” Pleased, he poked his head into his room, then stepped in all the way to admire his reflection. What a great mirror! It had a very smooth, clean wood frame and someone had leaned it against the narrow wall next to his clothes rack. Perfect placement, and he was stunning.

“Who did you ask? What else do they have?”

He turned and peeked over his shoulder to check the way the cape hung in the back. Perfect. “That nice lady in the Paint Shop. I don’t know where she got it.”

After a second, Porkins said, “I didn’t know we had a paint shop. I’ve never seen it.”

“Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” Zev sounded subdued. “We probably have a lot of services here that we’ve never seen.”

“It’s part of the Carpenter Shop.” Luke hung up his cape. There was not a gold sparkle anywhere, and he missed finding them. They reminded him of his dad.

“I didn’t know we had a carpenter shop either.”

“Where do you think everything comes from, Pork? Buildings, steps, bunks, tables— the construction fairy?” He stood in the doorway. “Hey, Zev? I’m sorry I snapped at you this morning. I’m just…. Well, no excuse, just sorry.”

“It’s forgotten.” But Zev gave him a smile that meant it was more or less forgiven, but definitely not forgotten. “You were tired. How long was your trip?”

He decided it was all right to answer because his dad wasn’t where he’d been four days ago. Not that the Alliance would use any information against him. Right. “Four days. It was boring. Except I watched a great opera! Have you ever seen opera? That was my first one!”

“Not in person.” Zev looked at the other two who shook their heads. “Just on the holo.”

“My dad said there are some opera holo channels. Maybe we can watch one sometime.”

Porkins groaned. “Isn’t it a lot of hollering?”

Luke laughed. “That’s what I thought at first, but it was pretty exciting. Lots of drama and crying and murders and suicides and knives!”

“Sounds perfect for you,” Zev commented.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Or maybe it only felt uncomfortable to Luke. “I’m gonna change,” he said awkwardly and retreated to his bunk and shut the door.

He sat down and pulled off his boots, then removed the rest of his clothing, hanging up his Sithly outfit very carefully. He hesitated and decided to strip all the way and face himself in the new mirror.

At first glance, he looked amazing, lean (despite the pies) and muscular, but when he looked closer he saw white streaks scattered all over his body. His dad said he wouldn’t have scars, but…. He held out his arms and studied the marks. Not scars, but new skin. Evidently his tanning treatment didn’t transfer into new skin. Not something they’d thought to mention at the spa.

He turned around, examining every blemish. On his left thigh were indentations that weren’t quite healed, and he supposed that his femoral artery was underneath. There was a gap in his knowledge of anatomy because he’d only listened to an audiotape without vid, but he suspected that ‘femoral’ was about the same as ‘femur’. He needed to study more.

It must have been a deep gouge because his fingers could still feel it. He looked at himself for a few more minutes, feeling…. He didn’t know quite what he felt. Sober, maybe. A little sad for no obvious reason.

He pulled on his starry robe and sat on the bunk, letting Berrie perch on his knee and stare at him with beady little eyes. _Hey, Dad?_

There was an acknowledgement that asked for patience, but the response came only a minute later. _Yes, Bug._

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to express, but settled for: _I’m sorry I scared you._

Vader didn’t answer immediately.

_I mean, when I was hurt. You must have… if you thought I was...._

_Yes,_ his father answered finally. _It was…._

 _You don’t have to talk about it,_ Luke Sent. _I just wanted you to know that I know— Well, I don’t_ really _know how you felt, but I can imagine._

 _It was a rerun of the worst day of my life— all over again._ His dad tried for humor, but failed utterly.

 _The day that you were… burned._ He hated that word. Just the memory of what his dad had shown him once and knowledge of the details of his injuries made him shudder.

 _Not exactly. It was… being encased in the suit and then being told—_ It felt like Vader couldn’t even form the thought. He’d probably never said it to another person. 

_You don’t have to—_

_All that helped me through that horrendous ordeal was the knowledge that Padme and the baby were waiting. That she would forgive me, that we would be a family— And then— he told me they were dead— you were dead. That I’d killed— and that’s when I knew that I had no life to return to._

_Dad…._

_That I would never have a life again. That everything was over, everything was ended— except the damned machinery forced me to continue to exist when I should have been finished._

Tears were running down his face, soaking Berrie’s head. He wiped his sleeve across it. _I love you, Dad._

_Only power and anger remained. Everything I had valued for so much of my life was gone. But somehow… I lived… and I was as strong as a god._

If only. _I wish none of it had ever happened to you._

 _It happened to you, too, Luke._ There was heaviness in the admission. _But when you appeared out of nowhere and gave me life and hope back— I couldn’t believe my luck. I couldn’t believe— So when you almost— When I pulled you out and hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t… but I relived that day and I was afraid I couldn’t stop it from happening all over again._

_But you did! You saved me. You healed me! You did something you thought you’d never be able to do again._

_Son, I’d never done it_ before. _I was never a Healer. This time I just wanted to—_ had _to._

He sniffled happily. _See? You can do anything. Between the both of us, we can heal you._

Vader gave an odd laugh. _That is not something I ever believed._

_But now you do._

_Yes. It seems undeniable._ His dad sighed. _Are you all right, Bug? I need to focus my attention on the bridge. We’re arriving at Vaal._

_I’m fine. I’m seeing the doctor again later— Well, you already know that._

_Yes. We’ll talk later, Son. I love you._

_Ditto._ It amazed him how easily his dad thought— and said— those words that had seemed so achingly impossible just a month ago.

“Hey, Luke,” Wes called. “We’re going to lunch. Wanna come?”

“Yeah, I’m just changing. I’ll meet you there in a few.”

“We’ll save you a place,” Zev said near his door, and Luke thought he was on the path to fitting in again. Maybe.

# # #

“What _is_ this?” Luke lifted a dripping serving spoon. “Are these supposed to be vegetables?”

Behind the counter, the cook looked aggrieved. “They _are_ vegetables. You don’t like it, don’t eat it.”

He dropped the spoon in disgust. “Vegetables don’t have to be drowned and then boiled to death! This is revolting mush!”

“You wanna cook?”

“You wanna fly an x-wing?” he retorted. The next hot serving dish looked equally unappetizing. “What kind of meat is this?”

A second cook steered the other one aside. “It’s some kind of young bird, sir. Fresh and tasty.”

 _“Bird?!”_ One of those beautiful birds— maybe even one he’d saved in the nest!? “Are you kidding? You’re wiping out an entire _species_ just for lunch?! That’s outrageous!”

“I’ll have the bird if he doesn’t want it,” the man behind him in line offered.

“Murderer.” Luke sniffed resentfully. “You should all be ashamed. What other kind of protein do you have? Seriously! Why is there nothing else here?! Not everybody wants to eat baby birds you’ve ripped from their parents and massacred!”

“We don’t—”

Dr. Andres appeared on his other side. “You have some protein packs, don’t you?” he asked the cook gently.

“Sure, doc,” the first cook said and tossed one at Luke. “Here you go, hotshot.”

 _“E chu ta,”_ Luke hissed as he caught the packet. He grimaced at the physician. “Thanks. Bunch of baby killers here.”

The miniature goatee wriggled as Andres suppressed a... laugh? “Are you eating alone?” although Luke was certain he heard the addition of: _or with your invisible friend?_

 _No, it’s my dad who has an invisible friend, not me._ “I’m sitting with my squad.”

“See you at two then.” Andres hesitated, then shook his head slightly as he left.

“What was that all about?” Narra asked as he joined the others.

 _It’s my free day— lay off!_ But he said, “They can’t cook vegetables and they assassinated baby birds— _babies!_ For _lunch!_ We need a chef to run this kitchen, not these incompetent losers.”

The pilots all looked down at their plates. “Baby birds?” Porkins asked uncertainly. “They’re good though. Tender.”

“Of _course_ they’re tender, they’re just babies! You don’t kill _babies!”_ And immediately he remembered his dad’s confession about the Jedi younglings and thought maybe he should shut up.

Wes pushed his plate aside. “This entire meal is gross anyway.”

“Shall we go to another restaurant?” Zev teased.

“Yeah, and let’s not leave a tip here.”

The commander interrupted. “Oz—”

Okay, he was ‘Oz’ again. Luke sighed. Narra was determined to add to his headaches. “What?”

“I was going over tomorrow’s assignments and—”

“Today is our day off! Shouldn’t you wait until tomorrow to talk about tomorrow? Krit!”

“He’s ba-ack!” Wedge sang under his breath.

“Oz, since we’re short of pilots, you’re back on the roster. Supply run with Porkins at 0900.”

Krit. “I need to get back to you on that. I may not be available.” He peeled open the protein pack and took a bite of the bar.

The short silence was broken first by a snicker from Hobbie, then Narra said: “That wasn’t a request.”

“I understand. But I’ll still need to get back to you later.”

Narra folded his arms. “Do you want to be a pilot or not? Because we can manage without you.”

“Fine! Manage without me then!” Sometimes he just wanted to— He took a swallow of milk. Sometimes he just wanted to be Luke Vader and have no rules and tell everyone where to go. It would be so satisfying. And so _fast!_ No wonder his dad loved being an authoritarian… dictator… whatever. He stood. “Somebody take my tray back. I’ll see you later.”

He heard Wes let out his breath in a long sigh, but Narra didn’t say a word. Luke hesitated and raised his hand, but couldn’t think of what to say. He shook his head and settled for repeating “Later” and left the table.

His exit was stalled when he saw K’riade entering with some of her paint- and sawdust-covered coworkers. Fortunately he was wearing his work jumpsuit so he could hug her.

“Thank you! You’re a miracle worker. The mirror is gorgeous.”

“I just supervised, sweet thing. Raal here did the heavy lifting.”

“Sanding,” the man corrected. “You’re welcome. Anything for one of our pilots.”

“And it’s nice to see someone who dresses well. It’s respectful, y’know?” She smiled at him.

“That’s me, Mr. Respectful.” Oh, sweet Sithiness! “Watch out for the mushy veggies and dead baby birds.”

“Thanks for the warning,” she replied with a chuckle as he waved goodbye.

Once he was out the door, he thought: _Great. Now what? I’m supposed to rest._

Well, fine! Back to the bunk and shut the door and wait out the next hour before he could hear all the bad news about… whatever.

“Oz!”

 _By the Holy Order of Sith!_ He considered that might be a good curse and reminded himself to maybe ask his dad later. “What? What? _WHAT?”_

“I don’t know what your problem is—” Narra began.

“That’s right! You don’t! So leave me alone! I said I’d get back to you later.”

The commander didn’t follow him as he stalked away, but Luke felt the stare like it was a lightsaber drilling into his back.

# # #

“Can I fly tomorrow?”

“What did I tell you about resting?” The doctor’s tone was mild but firm.

“Fine! Tell Narra, will you? He’s on my back.”

“I’ll give him a full report. Open the gown. Just to the waist,” Andres ordered when Luke hesitated. “Take a deep breath and hold it.”

Luke inhaled and held. Andres paused. “Not like that. Inhale deeply, then exhale, _then_ hold it.”

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“Why doesn’t everyone know that? Now hold it.” The scan took only a couple seconds. “Now sit on the stool. I want your head.”

 _You and a certain Emperor P,_ he thought darkly. “Why?”

“I’m doing a study on bad attitudes, and you’re the perfect candidate.”

Luke gasped. “Are you insinuating—”

“Hold your head still. There. Now let me look at those scars before you get dressed again.”

“They’re not scars,” he grumbled, clutching the flimsy gown around him. “They’re new skin.”

The physician’s fingers hovered over some of the marks without touching him. “Fake tan?” he asked.

“You think I’m gonna be able to get a real tan in a hell-hole like this?”

Andres ignored his question. “There are a lot of scars— sorry, new skin. Where did this happen?”

Luke didn’t reply.

“The FYEO said you fell several floors and were buried in debris. It would be helpful to know the composition of the debris.”

He shrugged. “I really can’t talk about it.”

“All right.” This time the physician touched the femoral place.

“Watch it!”

Andres didn’t answer. “Hmm. Looks like this was fairly deep yet it’s quite well healed. Odd.”

“That’s what you said earlier. It just took a little Jedi magic,” Luke sniped smugly.

“Really.”

He sighed. “Well… not exactly. But it was Force-healing.”

“You can get dressed now. So is the Force the ‘energy’ part of your blood?” He turned his back as Luke got in the jumpsuit.

“Yes! Do you know about midichlorians?” It didn’t seem likely, but….

“In fact, I do. When I was young and idealistic— about a decade ago— I tried to study about the Jedi and the unique qualities in their blood, but there was nothing online and not much available from more unconventional sources.”

“I can probably get you more to read if you want.” He sat and pulled the wrap boots over his ankles. “I can access— Well, I mean, I have maybe more access than you do.”

“Thanks, I’d like that.” The physician squinted at his screen. “Lungs look good, no infiltrates, you’re clear.”

“My dad wants me tested weekly for a month.”

“That really isn’t necessary.”

“If he says it is, then it is.”

“Very well. I don’t see any reason for your bad attitude, but there’s evidence of a hairline skull fracture that appears to be mostly healed. I want you to rest for a few days anyway. Sometimes symptoms appear later.”

“It’s been a week already.”

“Mmm.” The doctor gave him a sideways glance. “You mentioned your father. Did he participate in your healing? Are midichlorians hereditary?”

 _Oh, great!_ Luke scowled. “Don’t be— I don’t— None of your business!”

“All right.” Andres waved away his demurrals. “In addition to resting, I think it would benefit you to see the base counselor.”

“Argh!” Luke groaned. “Why does _everyone_ always say that?! I’m fine!”

“So it’s been suggested before?”

“No! Yes...maybe. Why would you say that?”

“You’ve had a trauma. The combination of that and your occupation must be quite stressful.”

“My occupation…?” Luke repeated.

“Undercover operative.”

“Am I? I don’t know what that means. Who thinks I’m an operative? I mean, does the Alliance think I’m an operative in the Empire? Or does the Empire think I’m an operative in the Alliance? Or do they both think I’m a double operative?”

Andres stared at him. “You don’t know? Well, if that’s not clear to you, I definitely recommend the counselor. He’s a qualified psychologist who—”

“Can we just— Can I ask my other questions? About lung replacement and stuff?”

“You don’t need a lung replacement, Luke.”

“I _told_ you it’s for a friend.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Oh, for— It’s for a _friend._ He was badly burned.” _Dad, if you don’t want to hear this— um, don’t listen for awhile._

“How badly?”

“Like… incinerated.”

“What percentage of his body was burned?”

“I don’t know.”

“Limbs? Arms and legs?”

“Uh...no.”

“Torso?”

“Yes, but...I mean, he didn’t have arms and legs, they were already… taken off. So… yes, torso and head.”

“That sounds unsurvivable— unless they were minor burns.”

Luke shook his head.

“But he lived.”

“Yes! He has some artificial organs, but that was almost twenty years ago and I don’t know how good they were even then. There has to be something better now.”

“So what are we looking at? Lungs, heart, throat tissue, brain—”

“His brain is fine! Except for… well, maybe some neural connections or something. But he needs some cybernetic replacements, I think. Lungs are the big thing. He has to use a respirator except in extra-pressurized air, and it really inhibits him. So I was wondering… are there better artificial lungs now? Or could we grow some? Or clone them? Or even a transplant?”

“Yes, although some processes would be time-consuming. Cloning would require an embryo, and a donor transplant would require a fresh donor.”

_I would have no problem obtaining a donor._

_Dad! No killing!_

“However, artificial lung insertion techniques have progressed a long way in the last twenty years and would mean a faster recovery than a donor transplant. A respirator would no longer be needed as the transplant contains a pump.”

“That sounds great!”

“But, although the technology is available, it’s still restricted for— well, people with the means to pay.”

_I’d be spending your inheritance, Bug._

“No problem. How do we start the process?”

“It’s not something I can do here, but there are two facilities in the galaxy that are well-qualified and experienced in these surgeries. One is the EmPalCenter on Imperial—”

“Nope!” Luke interrupted. “Where’s the other one?” 

“Carosi. Superior physicians and facilities.” Andres held up his hand. “One thing to consider. Without the protection of a respirator, this person would be susceptible to viruses and infections and would need to be cautious of his surroundings.”

 _A risk worth taking,_ his dad said, and Luke rejoiced at the excitement in his tone.

“We want to do it! Just give me the information.” He handed the doctor his datapad and leaned back. “Phew, that’s a weight off my mind! Now I _really_ don’t need a counselor.”

“Still. It couldn’t hurt. I’m giving you a referral just in case.” Andres handed back his pad. “There you go. Good luck. I’ll see you next week. But if any problems arise, come back here. I’ll com Commander Narra now.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m in hot water already!” Luke grinned. “Thanks, Doc!” He left, nearly skipping out of the office.

“Don’t run! Go rest!”

_Listen to the doctor._

“Okay, Doc!”

_Okay, Dad! Yay! You’re going to be well! You won’t need your mask! You need to start ordering a new wardrobe!_

_Not without you, Bug. On your next visit._

_Yes!_ He slowed his pace, doing his best to avoid hopping with excitement. This was the first step— or maybe the second step— on the road to defeating Sidious.


	6. Sex Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke discovers a fabulous potential future while still causing dissent and drama among the crew. Some crack because that’s what I need right now.
> 
> IMPORTANT MESSAGE: Sorry, no sex and no bomb (unless you count Luke) despite the title. It’s a song. See Note at bottom for the video.

**# # #**

_Are you excited?_ he asked his dad even though he was sure of the answer.

_I’m… cautiously optimistic._

_Yay, you’re excited! Me too! Everything is working out!_

There was a hesitation before his father replied, _Yes,_ and Luke decided it was best to ignore the doubt. Vader changed the subject. _How are you feeling, Bug? Are you resting?_

Luke sighed heavily. _I can’t rest every minute. But I’m sitting down._ He sat immediately on a tree stump at the edge of the jungle. _I didn’t want to go in right away in case Narra is mad. Or something._

He could actually _feel_ the scowl. _Luke, if they upset you, I will fetch you immediately. I will bring the entire fleet and make them regret their treatment of you._

 _You’re so dramatic!_ Luke grinned. _Speaking of… I guess I’ll go back to the barracks now and see if I create some drama and ruffle some feathers— Oh! That reminds me! They had BIRDS for lunch! Baby birds!_

_Were they good?_

_DAD! I saved those birds’ lives!_

_From the camp cook?_

_No! In the jungle— Oh, never mind!_ He sent a mental hug as he felt his father’s attention straying. _Try not to kill anyone on the ship,_ he reminded.

_It is a challenge at this point, but I’ll try— for you._

Okay, that was teasing, he was fairly certain. He hurried across the base and cautiously nudged open the entry to Rogue barracks and peeked in. The holo was blaring music from Pork’s favorite dance show, and the other four pilots were playing a game that evidently involved gambling if the mound of chips in the center of the table was anything to go by.

Luke slipped in quietly and headed for his bunk. He could watch the tape his dad sent or—

“Oz.”

—not.

He stuck only his head around Narra’s door. “Hi! How are you?”

“Get in here. Close the door. Sit.”

Sometimes it felt like all he did was sigh when he saw the commander. Come to think of it, that’s what Narra did when he saw Luke Skywalker. Either it was a weird coincidence or he was beginning to understand the commander’s feelings.

The officer pressed his fingers against his forehead for a moment before looking at him. “Dr. Andres commed me to say you’re on bed rest for three days to recover from unspecified injuries. What—”

“No! Just _rest!_ I don’t have to be in bed!”

“What happened?”

Luke caught his upper lip with his teeth. “I fell down?” he offered, then immediately regretted making it a question.

Narra folded his arms and leaned back. “Don’t make me pry every word out of you. Just tell me what happened.”

He almost rolled his eyes, but caught himself in time and just stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “It was an accident. Or maybe not. There was an explosion. I fell a few floors. Into a shaft. That filled with anti-fire foam. And a few other things happened that ruined my tan. Oh, and I have a small concussion, that’s why I’m supposed to take it easy for a couple days. But I feel fine,” he added reassuringly, because maybe he could get away with resting for only one day. Or two.

Narra obviously couldn’t help himself— he sighed. “And I suppose your father was involved?”

“He. Saved. My. Life.” Luke grated out the words, daring the commander to criticize his dad.

“Mm. And just where did this accident take place?”

“That’s hardly relevant,” he replied coolly, because he had no idea if the Alliance knew about the Executor or not. Standing, he added: “I’m sorry I won’t be much assistance for the next couple days. If you have any quiet work I can do, I’ll be glad to. Is that all?”

Narra gave him an unreadable look. “I’ll leave it to you what you want to tell the others about your… confinement.”

Well, okay. Maybe he could embellish the story… although the _real_ story didn’t need embellishing. “How about I tell them I’m grounded because I talked back to you?”

“Don’t use me as your excuse.”

Luke was taken aback by the commander’s tone. “That was supposed to be a joke.”

Narra didn’t answer, just dismissed him with a gesture and focused on his datapad.

“Nobody has a sense of humor any more,” he complained. “It’s not like you’re— well, okay, you _are_ fighting a war…” He stopped himself before saying _but not really_ because that would probably be going a wee bit too far. “Sorry, I’ll, uh….”

“Out.”

This time he _did_ roll his eyes as he left the office, pulling the door closed behind him— firmly. He joined Porkins in front of the holo.

“Is this that dancing show that— Oh!” He sat suddenly, eyes widening. “What’re they _doing?_ They’re… sliding!”

“Ice skating.” Jek didn’t take his eyes from the screen. “Watch, they’re gonna— Wow!”

“Wait! What? That white floor is ice? Like ice cubes? All over?”

“Desert boy!” Wedge called. “You’ve never seen ice before?”

“Not _that_ big!” He slipped off the chair and onto the floor closer to the screen. “Do they have _knives_ on their feet?”

“Blades. Now shhh!” Porkins leaned forward to watch a Falleen throw his partner in the air and then catch him again and pretend to drop him, all while sliding really fast.

“How do they slide like that? Why don’t the knives cut the ice and chop it up?”

“Will you just hush and watch? It’s almost… damn, it’s over.” The sliders fell to their knees and slid across the ice. Weren’t they _cold?_

“Wow! Are there gonna be more sliders?”

“They’re called skaters, hon,” Wes called. “Yes, there’ll be more. In fact— Oh, look who’s on! Let us worship.”

It was a blond human male in a _very_ short red jacket, _very_ tight black pants and boots with knives— _blades_ on the bottom. Music started blaring— it reminded him of the march that was played on the Executor for his dad’s arrival, but this one had words and seemed to be about sex. Maybe. It was sort of vague.

“Look at that great hair!” He watched open-mouthed at the speed. “He’s dancing! Why doesn’t he fall?”

And then the slider jumped backward! and he was still dancing and making moves with his hips that Luke had never even thought of and that looked like something his dad wouldn’t want him watching. “I want that jacket. No—I want the whole outfit! No— I want to _do_ that! Where can I slide? I want to slide!”

“Skate,” Janson corrected, and he abandoned his game to the protests of the other three and sat in Luke’s vacated chair, leaning forward to watch the skater. “He’s amazing…. Well, you definitely can’t do it here, no ice. Somewhere cold or—”

“Like Hoth?” Okay, time to rethink the Hoth idea. Maybe the base _should_ move there.

“—preferably somewhere with an indoor rink like that. All the big cities in the galaxy probably have one.”

He tried rotating his wrists like the man did. “Like Coronet City?” When he went there to get his tan redone, he could skate. The man threw off the red jacket. He wore a skimpy gold vest underneath— and no shirt! “Look at those _muscles!”_ He was sliding so fast and _jumping!_ “I can jump! I’d be so good at this.”

Lots more sliding and jumping backwards and spinning at the same time! then the man ripped off his vest and just tossed it away! and then his pants! and then he was left in only a shiny gold brief!! But his skin didn’t look real and Luke decided he was still fully dressed. What a fabulous outfit. _Dad, can I get an outfit that makes me look naked when I’m not? Or— no! Wait! Look! Gold gloves— GOLD GLOVES!!!!_

_Settle down, Bug. You’re agitating yourself._

He ignored his father because the not-really-naked skater ended with a spin so fast that he was almost invisible. Was he a _Jedi?_ “Wow…. I’ll bet I could do that.” _Dad, I wanna skate! Could we skate? Instead of racing? Or maybe skating AND racing?! I’m gonna send you the link later— you HAVE to see this!_

_Luke— enough._

“You probably could,” Zev commented from the table. “Wes— are you playing or not?”

“I want to watch more.”

“It’s over.” Porkins sighed. “The whole show. I used to dream I could skate.”

“That’s all there is?” Luke was so disappointed that he flopped sideways on the floor. “I wonder if there’s an opera with skating.”

“I seriously doubt it. They don’t show skating very often. It’s not that popular.”

“What?” People were insane if that wasn’t popular. “That was amazing. I really want to try that. Can we make an ice floor here? My dad thinks I should do something worthwhile. Maybe like skating.”

“Apparently being in the Alliance isn’t worthwhile,” Wedge observed, throwing down his cards. “I fold. Game over.”

“So what does your dad want you to do?” Zev asked quietly.

Luke heard Narra’s door open. It was like the guy had an antenna that zoomed into focus every time Luke said ‘dad’. “Well… maybe go to a university. Or become a Jedi. Or rule the galaxy. Or join the galactic racing circuit.”

Hobbie snorted. “Get real and make up your mind. You’re not a baby. You should know what you want to do by now.”

Luke rubbed his arms and didn’t answer.

“Apparently the Alliance isn’t on your to-do list, huh?” Hobbie continued as he scooped up his winnings. “Whose side are you on anyway? Alliance or Empire?”

He waited for someone to leap to his defense, but there was an awkward silence. There seemed to be a lot of those around him lately. He wanted to snap, _I’m on my dad’s side,_ but maybe that wasn’t the best idea with Narra eavesdropping. “Neither. I’m on the Third Side.” _Thank you, Jovay!_ “I stand with everyone in the galaxy who wants peace and is tired of all the fighting and deaths.”

“We all want—”

“Luke, why are you still up? Go to your room.” Narra looked down on him like a giant, making Luke wish he wasn’t lying on the floor.

“I’m _resting!_ I don’t have to lie down… although… I am.”

“You’re supposed—”

“Why are you telling Luke to go to his room?” Wes stood and put his fists on his waist. “He’s not a child!”

“Wes—” Zev came and hovered. “Take it easy. Commander—”

“Stars, does everyone fight when I’m _not_ here or do you save it just for me?” Luke moaned.

“He was _injured,”_ Narra snapped, his composure fraying. “He’s supposed to lie down.”

“I don't have to lie—”

“Injured? What do you mean, _injured?_ Luke!” Janson whirled and knelt next to him.

Great. This wasn’t quite how he’d rehearsed his dramatic reveal, but he could wing it because they were all staring at him now, waiting for the story. “Well… it started one day when my dad and I were bored and he heard about some pirates hijacking shipments in the area. So we went after them and had a fight and then found their… _lair…_ and destroyed all their stuff. And a few weeks later, they set a bomb or something for revenge and it exploded and I fell a few stories and was trapped and drowned and sort of died, maybe, and cut an artery and my dad healed me and I spent way too long in bacta and my tan looks terrible. But I’m fine now. Well, except for a little leftover concussion, which is why the doctor wants me to rest for a day or two.”

 _“Three_ days,” Narra reminded.

He sat up and spread his hands. “Whatever.” Then he appealed to Zev and Wes who had subsided into silence, which was preferable to the questions they could have asked. “See? I’m fine. And I’m resting, okay?”

“That was a really good story,” Porkins observed. “But it was too short. You should embroider it a lot more.”

“Noted,” Luke acknowledged, deciding that in this case ‘embroider’ meant something other than sewing a pretty design on his jacket. “I’ll work on it for my next presentation.”

“Zev, get him a pillow,” Wes ordered. “You can lie on the sofa, hon. We’ll be going to dinner soon. You don’t need to be exiled to your bunk.”

Zev yanked a cushion from a chair and propped it against the sofa arm. “There! Happy now?”

And he’d thought Darth Vader was exhausting? These guys were more high maintenance than he’d remembered. “Thank you.” Sure, he could easily stand by himself, but since Janson was determined to help, he let the pilot take his arm and gently settle him on the sofa.

“Would you like a blanket? Zev, get him a blanket.”

“I don’t need a blanket, it’s warm. I’m fine. Honestly.”

“Hold on,” Hobbie finally interjected, and Luke braced himself. “Are we supposed to believe that story? Why is everything such a drama with you?”

“Shut up, Klivian.” Zev’s tone was irritated. “Get off Luke’s case.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do? You know all this is bantha-krit, right?”

“I don’t make up stories,” Luke protested, but Zev and Hobbie went toe-to-toe, glaring at each other.

“Okay, you two—” Narra began, but turned when the barracks door opened and Commander Dreis stepped inside.

“Shift change update—” He stopped and evaluated the scene. Or maybe he could actually _feel_ the conflict. “What’s going on?”

“Luke is back,” Wedge offered, trying without success to hide a smile.

Boss looked over. Luke was sure that he appeared harmless and innocent, lying on the sofa, saying nothing.

“Of course he is. What’s wrong with you now?”

“It’s a long story,” Hobbie scoffed. “Are you in the mood for a fairytale?”

“Enough, Klivian,” Narra said wearily. “The Imperials are our enemy, not each other.”

“Oh, c’mon! He didn’t give a damn about losing our Arda base! I’m looking at an Imperial. We all know it.”

Luke sat up and glowered at Hobbie. “I am _not_ an Imperial! I’m not— I mean, I’m nothing! I’m…. Geez. Okay, sorry you lost a base. What am I supposed to do— cry about it?”

“Don’t you mean WE lost a base?”

“Stop it!” He held up his hands as if he could stave off their criticisms. “I’m tired, I’m hurt, I’m traumatized, I miss my dad, and I don’t know why you’re mad at me when I just got back!”

”He’s jealous,” Zev said under his breath.

Hobbie opened his mouth to respond but Narra stopped him with an upraised hand. “Enough,” he repeated. “All of you, go for a run. Go to dinner early. Go anywhere, just cool off. Not you, Luke. You stay here.”

“Fine! I’m not hungry anyway.” He folded his arms, prepared to sulk until they begged him.

 _My little drama boy,_ his dad whispered in his head, and Luke made an aggravated sound. _It’s inherited!_ “I’ll wait. They’re probably not done slaughtering baby birds for dinner. I wouldn’t want to disturb them while they’re wiping out a species.”

“Commander,” Narra gestured to his office, a repressed sigh obvious in his voice.

“Commander,” Boss confirmed, but didn’t move, studying Luke.

 _I’m a commander, too!_ Well, an honorary one. With the 501st. Maybe he wouldn’t mention that, especially since he just said he wasn’t an Imperial. Which he _wasn’t!_ “Do you need something?” he asked Boss pointedly, making Wes laugh.

“Luke… Luke….” Zev repeated as Hobbie stalked out, slamming the door after him. “Stop baiting… everyone. You’re home now. Relax.”

 _Home?_ This wasn’t home. Home was wherever his dad was.

_Child._

He subsided, waiting.

_You’re overwrought. Remember your mission and your dignity. Center yourself._

_I can’t! I’m sorry!_

_You can. Son, you do not need to apologize to anyone for having a sensitive soul._ Vader paused, letting Luke think about that before adding: _Do you remember the one admirable thing that Yoda said?_

 _Umm… I remember what YOU said he said that was admirable._ “Luminous beings are we,” he declared softly, causing Boss and Narra to hesitate. Luke pinched his own hand. “Not this crude matter.”

“You don’t look crude to me,” Wes said, and Zev muttered something indistinguishable under his breath.

“Uh… oh.” _Dad? Are you sure Yoda was right?_

_Only the first part of his saying is admirable. Remember, if you had the skin of a troll, it would be ‘crude matter’. But you’re fine._

“Fine,” he repeated with a sigh. He waved the guys off and they left, hopefully not to get into another squabble with Klivian.

Boss paused at the threshold to Narra’s office. “Do you want to tell us what _really_ happened?”

“What I said! Sheesh!” Aggrieved, he pulled the cushion part way over his head and hid there, vowing silently not to come out again until he got hungry.

Which might be _never!_ Or in a few minutes. Whichever came first.

_Make your peace with them, young one. You are my emissary— do not forget that._

“Okay.” He sat up slowly. “Wait. I’ll tell you everything.”

 _Not everything,_ his father added. _Don’t mention the ship. And don’t tell them we’ve relocated to Vaal. And remind them again that you need to speak to the full Council._

_Dad—_

_And there’s no rush. Relax and have fun._

Oh, that was rich! Darth Vader in his ear giving him orders and _then_ telling him to _relax?_

But the two commanders approached and sat opposite him. Stifling another sigh, Luke began reciting what he remembered about the attack.

# # #

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The video that entranced Luke.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=ogpwrc6oCKM) Once you get past the ads....


	7. Two Conversations at One Time. Maybe Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Luke can carry on multiple conversations at the same time, including one in his mind to Dad Vader. Then comes an unexpected, possibly ominous complication.

He waited until the two commanders left, ostensibly heading to the mess, before clipping on his lightsaber and following them. It wasn’t surprising to see them enter the medical facility, but it was disappointing. It would have been simple to eavesdrop, but he didn’t bother. What they asked wasn’t important— how the doctor answered _was._

So he stayed in the shadow of the building until they exited in a few minutes, not enough time to get much information. Along the path was a wooden bench (built by the construction fairy) and Luke leaned back on it, staring up. It wasn’t long before he felt the presence of Dr. Andres and focused his attention as the man began to walk past, then hesitated and looked over. The physician came to sit next to him and mimicked him by looking at the dark sky.

“What do you see?”

Luke stayed quiet, considering before he said, “I’m looking at where the stars should be. The base has too many lights. Starshine is canceled.”

“Yes.”

It felt good not being cross-examined, so he offered: “I grew up on Tatooine. The sky was so clear. There must have been millions of stars visible. Couldn’t go far from the homestead, though, because of Raiders and… well, other scary things. I always thought if I could go deep into the desert at night, I’d see billions of stars so bright it would be like daytime. I didn’t know then that… that each star is a life. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Every life is a star. Sometimes I can pick out my friends in the sky. I wonder if everyone is up there?”

Andres said nothing, but Luke could feel the sharpening of his regard.

“There are more pyramids here, you know,” Luke said. “In the jungle.”

“I saw them when we flew in.”

He nodded. “There’s one that’s not too far, maybe three klicks or so. I’ve climbed it in the daylight, but I’m going to do it at night. Just to see the stars. Not until you’ve cleared me, of course,” he added, smiling a little.

“Mmm. Must be smaller than this one on the base. This one would be impossible to climb.”

“Nothing is impossible.” Did he sound like Yoda? “I can climb anything. I can take you, if you want. Help you get up.”

Andres sent him a sideways glance. “Maybe. But at night— there are no lights in the jungle… and, uh, I’ve heard there are dangerous animals.”

“I can take care of myself. And you.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate. He waited.

After several moments of silence, Andres spoke. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

Luke nodded.

“I thought they’d push, but they didn’t,” he continued. “Pity, because I had my reasons lined up and ready to go.”

Luke tilted his head.

The doctor counted on his fingers. “I’m your physician. Confidentiality is a requirement of physicians. You’re my patient. You have the right to confidentiality. You’re a minor. You’re a civilian. And finally, everything about you seems to be classified. I’m not even sure which is your real name.”

“Luke Skywalker,” he said softly. “But I’m not sure if I’m supposed to go by that yet. It’s probably safer to call me ‘Oz’. I get mixed messages about my name.”

“From?”

“My dad mostly.” He smiled, still feeling a jolt of happiness when he said that word. “Or maybe just me talking to myself.”

“Ah. Is your father a Jedi?” The doctor was not even trying for subtlety.

“He was. Not any more.”

“Of course.” Andres frowned. “The Purge, the attempted coup, all of it— although I still don’t understand who was overthrowing whom. Or what. Even all these years later, it’s hard to discern the truth through the propaganda and lies.”

“Nothing about those days seems clear. From what I read, I mean.”

“So your father….” Andres hesitated. _“Anakin_ Skywalker?”

Luke felt his body tighten. “Yes.”

“Huh.” Andres looked pleased. “When I was a kid, I used to follow his exploits— he and Kenobi were a force unto themselves. But I thought that he… that they all….”

“Not all of them died. Not then. Some lived for a long time. Kenobi did too. There are probably more still around.” He flexed his hands and stared at them. “My father didn’t die. He fought for the Republic and stayed true to it even when the Republic turned into an empire.”

The other man tried to puzzle out that answer, but at some point evidently decided it was unwise to pursue the path.

“Do you want to see my ship?” Luke asked impulsively. “Or— I guess you’re going to eat.”

“No rush, I’m off duty. Yes, I’d like to see your ship. I assume it’s the mystery ship I’ve heard about. And afterward you can join me for dinner because I suspect you haven’t eaten since that pathetic lunch. Hopefully they’ll have something other than baby birds. You need real food, not energy packs.” Andres stood and stretched, his arms extending like he was trying to claw the sky.

Luke flinched. “Your clothes hurt my eyes.”

Surprised, the physician laughed and looked down at his perverse rainbow of mustard and orange and olive. “I’ve been told that my color sense isn’t the best.”

“Someone was being polite if that’s all they said.” Brightening, Luke rose and they began to walk. “What’s your first name?”

“Cristof. Or you can call me ‘Doc’.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “How about ‘Cris’?”

Andres rolled his own eyes. “Fine. Fine! FINE!” he said in such a perfect imitation of Luke that they both laughed.

What a relief it was to talk to someone who wasn’t critical or interrogating or looking at him like he was either an explosion waiting to happen or a fragile child ready to fall apart… or an amazing son. He didn’t feel like he had to put on a show. He hoped things stayed this way; he could relax and then maybe it would get better with the pilots too.

“What’s wrong? You sighed.”

“Did I?” They were safely past the canteen, so he didn’t have to worry about avoiding anyone. “It’s just… I’ve been gone a month and my life has changed so much, I don’t seem to fit in here anymore.”

“You _did_ just get back.” Andres sounded amused. “Maybe give it another few days.”

“I guess. But I kinda got… _overwrought…_ earlier. I was really excited and maybe was just a little annoying. And then everybody was arguing and accusing and defending— the commanders say I’m a disruptive influence on the squad.”

Cris snorted. “What was so exciting?”

Luke skipped a few steps before remembering that he was supposed to be taking it easy. “On the holo! There was a giant ice cube and people were ‘skating’! Have you ever seen that? It’s amazing and I want to do it! And their _clothes!_ It was just— wow!”

Andres stopped and folded his arms. Luke stopped too, figuring the doctor was making him rest. “I used to skate as a kid. There was a pond nearby that froze for months every winter.”

Luke stared. This was much more impressive than being a doctor. “Could you jump? And skate backwards? Did you win a medal?”

“No.” The man laughed slightly. “I was just a youngster playing in the ice and snow.”

“I wish I could have done that.” He didn't mean to sound wistful as they walked on.

“You said you grew up in the desert. That probably had its own appeal to kids.”

“I guess. Yeah. We flew— raced sometimes when I didn’t have to work. But skating looks like more fun. It’s just a person, no ship, no speeder, just all _you.”_

“You still can do it someday.”

“Maybe. If I have a ‘someday’.”His head wobbled from one side to another as he shrugged. “There’s just so much I’m supposed to do, and I’m so different, and I can’t really talk to anyone. And I don’t think they’re all my friends. I mean… some of them are, but…. I dunno. I don’t think they trust me.” At the edge of the hangar, Luke stopped and pressed his palm against the cool stone. “And maybe they’re right not to.”

Andres watched him. “You need clarity,” he suggested.

“Exactly! About so many things.” The other man hesitated, and Luke knew exactly what he was going to say. “No, I’m not talking to the counselor. I don’t need any more people knowing—” He stopped. “I can talk to you,” he said hesitantly, half-asking.

Andres parted his lips and paused before speaking. “Luke… that’s not my—”

“It’s not your job, right.” A flash of bitterness flared inside him.

“It’s not my specialty,” the physician said gently. “I don’t know if I could help you.”

“I don’t need _help,”_ Luke snapped, then stopped himself. “I just need to talk. Like we’re doing now. Without being judged or or scolded or blamed for who I am when I can’t help it. That’s all.”

“You want a friend,” Andres interpreted. “Aren’t your Rogue companions your friends?”

“I— Sort of. I don’t know.” Luke sighed again and fingered the smoothness of the rock that had worn down over centuries. For a moment, past lives pulsed through his fingertips and he withdrew his touch, not wanting the distraction. “I’ve had to lie to them so much for so long. Even the ones who like me don’t quite trust me,” he repeated. “And I’m still lying, so… what’s to trust? There’s my ship— see? C’mon.”

“Wait.” Andres touched his arm, and Luke felt an intense jolt of fear and pain that stained the doctor’s memory from patients he’d treated today. _I’m way too sensitive now._ He pulled away. Andres didn’t seem offended. “If you lie because you must, to protect information or plans— don’t be hard on yourself. You seem to be a naturally open person who isn’t comfortable being in whatever position you’re in. And… it sounds like you _expect_ your friends not to trust you.”

Commander Narra had once said something similar. That he wanted to trust people but kept testing them until they failed. Or he _thought_ they failed.

 _Luke, who are you talking to?_ His dad’s voice sounded sharp.

 _Just the doctor._ He nodded to the other man, hoping he didn’t expect a response because it was hard to talk to two people at once.

_Why? Is he still treating you? You should be resting. What are you doing?_

Luke grimaced. _I’m going to show him Yahoo and then we’re going to dinner._

_You’re interacting with the physician SOCIALLY?_

“There’s my ship.” He pointed to distract Cris. _Yes! Sort of! I just ran into him! Sheesh! I wanted somebody to talk to!_

_You have ME to talk to. You do not need to be intimate with strangers._

_Dad! I’m not being intimate, I’m just talking! I need somebody I can talk to OUT LOUD!_

“It’s a beauty. Unique.”

_What about your so-called friends? What about ‘My Friend Wes’? Is he not speaking to you? If you’re having emotional problems and not ready to continue our plan, I’m sending you home to Vjun._

“I just got here!” he shrieked, and Dr. Andres turned in alarm.

“Yes, I just— I’m talking to Yahoo— my ship!” He aimed at the door, sending his Force signal so it opened. “Take a look inside.”

_And what is that link you sent me? I told you— no pornography._

_What are you talking about? It’s ice skating and I want to do it!_

_Not dressed like that! And not making those— those— lewd movements!_

Luke covered his face with both hands and began to laugh. _Oh, Dad! I don’t think I could move like that even if I wanted to. Which I don’t! I just want to learn to skate someday, okay?_

“What’s wrong? Here, you should sit down.”

_And now the doctor thinks I’m crazy, so will you please stop talking to me?_

_Fine,_ Vader snarled, and Luke vowed for the umpteenth time to never say that word again.

 _Maybe we can meditate later,_ he offered, but his dad cut him off.

“I’m fine.” _Why_ did he keep saying that word? If he couldn’t keep promises to himself, how would he ever please anyone else? Especially someone like Darth Vader, because his dad was definitely not in an Anakin mood tonight.

“Luke—”

“It’s a Force thing.”

“That excuse must come in handy,” Andres observed. “Let’s have something to eat, then you should get some sleep. I’ll see your ship another time.”

“Fi— Okay.” He resealed Yahoo, feeling a little sad that he hadn’t been able to show it off. But he was really hungry, even his brain felt—

That wasn’t hunger. Luke paused, lifting his chin, then looking around. “Something’s… going on.”

“What?”

“If I knew what it was, I would’ve said so.” He turned, wrapping his arms to hug himself. “Someone is scared.”

The Command Center was the source of the fear. There was anger, too. Conflict. People. Fury. Disappointment. But overriding everything was fear. Luke approached slowly, gesturing Andres to stay behind him even though he didn’t sense danger. It also didn’t feel like anyone needed his help, so he stopped a few meters away.

The door banged open. Out stumbled Boss, then the young clerk, then the Security Chief that Luke hadn’t met. _Derlin_ , that was it. As they came down the stairs, the reason for their awkwardness was revealed: the clerk had binders on his wrists.

Luke remained frozen in place. His dad’s spy. The kid?— the kid had been pleasant to him, sympathetic even, though they’d never exchanged a word. How had he been discovered when even Luke hadn’t known until Vader told him?

The boy— well, he was a young man, but the scared look on his face made him look younger— stared down as he was forced to walk… except for a brief, nearly unnoticeable flick of his gaze at Luke as they passed. Was that a _plea?_ No, that made no sense. The spy didn’t know who he was, just saw him as another kid who’d been hauled into Command for being a troublemaker.

Commander Narra came out of Command, his steps heavy. He said a few words to Boss then walked over to Luke. “Doctor. Would you please excuse us for a moment?”

“We’re going to dinner,” Luke blurted. “I’m hungry. And tired.”

“I’ll wait over there,” Andres said, and with a nod to both of them, he moved out of hearing distance.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Luke clenched his fists behind his back.

“Do you know him?”

“Sure. He works in the office.” Good thing he was so practiced at lying. Although what he said wasn’t a lie… but he still felt guilty. “I don’t know his name. What did he do?”

Narra twisted his cap in his hands. “He’s been sending encrypted messages to someone. We don’t know who his contact is or how long he’s been spying. Well—” The officer gave a short, harsh laugh. “I suppose he’d been spying as long as he’s been here.”

“You think he’s a spy?” Luke looked at the figures who were disappearing into the secure building. “But he’s so… young. Where is he— Oh, not the brig! It’s so dirty there! Remember when I was in the brig on Dantooine? It was horrible! Is this one as filthy?”

The commander tilted his head. “Really? I thought you might say that he’s not a spy, that he’s just looking out for you.”

“He’s— What? No, he’s not looking out for me. I told you I don’t know him. And Captain Jovay _was_ looking out for me, he wasn’t a spy, you know that. Are you accusing me of something? Seriously!? This base only exists because my father is—” _protecting_ “—not attacking it, and you’re accusing _me_ of something? What— _spying?_ That doesn’t even make sense!”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Narra replied, though Luke didn’t quite believe him. “I just thought that you might have known him… or that he might know _you.”_

“He only knows me from the times I got yanked into the office and scolded.” Luke glanced over at Dr. Andres. “Can I go now? I’m hungry and my head hurts. Or do you want to drag me through the mud again?”

“Settle down. I was just asking.” Narra sighed and made a shooing gesture. “Go.”

Luke didn’t say another word as he stalked away, figuring he had perfected his disgruntled stomp to an art form. But before he reached the doctor, there was a question he had to ask.

_Dad? Do you know your spy just got caught?_

_Which one?_

He stifled a groan. _How many do you have? Well, it’s not the spy who takes snaps of me, it’s the one in the Command office._

There was a pause that felt weary. _That’s unfortunate. It was a good placement._

_Unfortunate? Yeah! But what about the kid?_

_What about him?_

_Dad! He’s so young! They’re gonna execute him!_

_He knew the risk when he accepted the assignment._

_But…._ “Let’s go,” he muttered to Andres.

“Yes, sir!”

Luke made an annoyed sound. “Sorry, okay? I’m just… they’re going to kill that guy and he’s so young.”

“Youth always sacrifices for war.” But the physician frowned. “What do you mean, kill him?”

“He’s— they think he’s a spy. Sure, they might give him a trial, but they’ll execute him anyway. Why bother with a trial?” Luke kicked open the door to the canteen.

“Well… if he’s committed espionage….”

_Dad, is it really espionage if he’s spying for you and you’re protecting this base?_

_Luke, find out how he was discovered._

His dad sounded distracted, which made him frown. _Narra said he sent encrypted messages. To you, I suppose._

There was no response. “Espionage? But what if they’re wrong about that?” _Dad?_

_Not now, Luke. I need to— I’m busy._

_Yeah, you’re—_ He came to a halt, faced with an image that was as clear as if it were right in front of him. His father, helmet off, surrounded by white. _You’re in your meditation pod!_

_You can see that?_

_Yes!_

“Oz, move your ass outta the doorway!” A Gold pilot shoved past him.

Luke shifted slightly. _I can see you! Finally! I can do it!_

 _Well…._ Vader sounded vexed as if he wasn’t sure that was a good thing or not. _Excellent, Son. I knew you could do it if you focused._

 _Focus locus pocus!_ Why did praise sound like criticism? _I know, I know, I need to focus more!_ The image faded away and Luke wondered which of them controlled it. _Anyway— the spy, you need to get him back. Otherwise they’ll execute him. And he’s not that much older than me._

_Luke, he is nothing to me. You are my biggest concern._

_NOTHING? Dad, he’s something to someone. He must have family or friends… and maybe a dad who misses him. He was always nice to—_ Luke took a tray and gasped. _Does he know who I am?_

“It’s not a bird,” the cook snapped, assuming Luke was revolted by the main course. “It’s woolamander.”

“That’s just as bad!” he exclaimed, perturbed over spies and the state of the universe in general and the food in specific. “They’re furry and cute in an ugly sort of way. They have families! Just give me the… whatever you’re calling ‘vegetables’ tonight.”

The woman scooped up a mash of something and slapped it on his plate.

_No, of course he doesn’t. Do you think I would be so careless?_

“No! I mean— yes, thank you, and I want bread.”

_I don’t know. I didn’t even know he was a spy until you told me!_

“He needs protein,” Dr. Andres suggested.

“Of course he does, Captain. Here,” the cook said, smearing something across the plate. It was an unappetizing color that reminded him of the doctor’s appalling wardrobe choices. Or possibly something that had been regurgitated by the birds. Or maybe it was squashed woolamander brains. “It’s nut butter. That enough protein for you, hotshot?”

“Yes! Sheesh! Thank you!”

_Why would I tell you? You might have slipped up and given him away._

He gasped again. _When have I ever slipped— Fine. Okay, never mind. Just… can’t you save him?_

“Are you a captain?” he asked, trying to distract Andres from his own inattention. “So you outrank the commanders?”

He felt a wave of impatience. _We’ll speak later when you’re alone. If you are this distressed about someone you don’t know— Son, you are making me question my decision to involve you in our plan. You must be.... You must curb your emotions and try to remain rational and calm._

 _Who, me?_ He snapped away from their connection before he said something that he might end up regretting and found an empty table. Cris sat opposite him.

“I am and I do. Are you done with your talk now?”

He reached for the seasonings and sprinkled way too much on the veggies— not that spices would help. “What do you mean?”

“I mean your ‘Force thing’ excuse for the way you behave.” The physician lowered his voice. “Is it really the Force? Are you actually talking to someone? Your father?”

No no no no no. Kritspeth! Luke stuffed as many vegetables into his mouth as he could manage without choking. He had to struggle to chew, but at least that prevented him from answering.

After a minute, Andres began eating, and Luke hoped that meant the questions were over.

 _They’d better be over for tonight,_ his dad said. _I warned you about socializing with someone you had just met, and a professional at that, someone who is treating you— and you always talk too much, you’re too trusting— Damn it, Luke, I should’ve found a way to have kept you here, not sent you on that long trip alone. You’re exhausted and not thinking clearly—_

_Father, please! Can we fret about everything later? I need to eat._

_Very well. Eat something healthy. And then you must rest. Are you wearing your armor?_

_DAD!_

_At least the bodyglove._

_Oh, c’mon! Even at—_

_Yes, even at night. Under your pajamas. At all times._

_Dad!_

_Please, Son. For me._

Oh, great. He couldn’t argue when his father played the Dad Card. _Okay. Talk to you later._

Luke concentrated on chewing, readying himself to go back to the barracks and plead exhaustion and go into hiding for the evening.

 _Definitely,_ his dad said because Darth Vader always had to have the last word.

 _Fine!_ He grinned when he heard the mental sigh. _Yay, I won!_

_Don’t push it, Bug._

Okay, he’d let his dad win this time. It was the least he could do.

# # #


	8. Exploring the House of Skywalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke has an enforced day of rest and finds lots of things to do and learn... and, as usual, finds out more than he ever wanted to know.

He’d spent the evening in his bunk, listening to “The Growth of Successful Monopolies through Modern Warfare” and pretty much retained absolutely none of it, probably because he’d fast-forwarded through the second half. He wasn’t planning on becoming a monopolist, so none of it was important. He would have asked his dad why he should study that, but Darth Vader was incommunicado either busy or sulking, so he’d save the question for another time. 

And this morning had gone well so far, too. He pretended to be asleep when the pilots went to breakfast. Not that he was avoiding them— he just didn’t want to answer questions or make small talk. And now— his avoidance had paid off. He had the entire barracks to himself!

The first thing he did was turn on the holo. Never ever _ever_ in his life had he had a holo that he could watch alone _and_ watch anything he wanted. Eagerly, he flipped through the channels, but there were too many, so he switched to the onscreen directory. A few programs had interesting titles, but turned out to be people arguing with each other. There was no ice skating. No racing of bikes or speeders or even pods. So he decided on a show where designers were redoing an undersea vacation house for a Quarren family.

He found a bit of cereal that Porkins had hidden behind a chair, and there was a half a container of milk in the cooler, so he settled down for breakfast. It occurred to him that he could use some of the broadcast tips to redecorate the barracks. If only Narra had let him paint a beautiful starry wall.

Breakfast abandoned, he jumped up and raced to the old Night Shift quarters. There was perfectly good furniture going to waste— like that big sofa. All he had to do was rearrange their current main room and an extra sofa would fit just fine, plus a couple more chairs in case they had guests. And he was _resting_ because he could use the Force instead of his muscles.

It took longer than he thought it would because it was hard to find the right places for everything. But when he finished, the room looked terrific. The new/old sofa was dusty, so he got some clean sheets from the linen bin and covered it. Then he got a pillow from his bunk, leaned it against one arm and reclined. This was the new ‘Luke’s Spot’, and no one was taking it from him.

He found another holo show, this one about landscaping. People made fancy designs with real plants and grass! It was hard to imagine. No one on Tatooine had made designs with piles of sand; they’d only drifted away when he’d tried a few times, and he’d only been able to build sandcastles when he’d peed in the sand, and that was a little gross to mold with his hands. And here on Yavin there were all kinds of flora, but everything was wild and untended. Someday he was determined to see a real ‘garden’ in person. Or maybe he could make one here!

But for now, he was still hungry. It was beginning to feel like his life revolved around food, and he would be glad to be released so he could go climbing and running again. It was an hour until the pilots had their lunch break, so now was a good time to eat. The Snapping Spy would have to be satisfied with Luke-in-work-fatigues because he refused to get dressed up to go to the mess. He was almost out the door when he remembered his lightsaber. He hooked it on his belt and checked himself in the mirror. The saber was really conspicuous, so he put on his mechanic’s belt with all its attachments and fastened the lightsaber to it. Now it looked like just another nondescript tool.

He peeked out the door to be sure Dr. Andres wasn’t there in case he was expected to be lying down. But he had to eat, so surely going to the canteen was considered resting.

Oh-oh. He was sort of embarrassed to see the same cook behind the line readying the ‘food’ for lunchtime. She saw him and frowned. “You’re early, hotshot. I’m not serving for another twenty minutes, so keep your pants on.”

“I will!” He smiled sweetly at her. Time to repair an important bridge. “That’s what the belt is for!”

She almost looked amused— maybe— but didn’t say anything, so he persisted.

“I’m sorry I was kind of a sleemo. Twice.” He sighed a little. “I just had past relationships with those animals and it was upsetting to see them turned into food.”

That got her attention, and she actually looked at him. “What sort of ‘past relationships’?”

“Well, I had to climb a tree to put back a nest of baby birds. And I saw a woolamander in the jungle and was going to kill it, but it had a family with little woolies so I didn’t.” He gave her another charming smile and tried to look apologetic. “So… sorry?”

She ladled a buttery sauce over a white lump. “Hrmph. Do you have a relationship with fish?”

“No.” Why would he have a relationship with fish? Then he remembered: “Unless it’s one of those huge blob things that hangs off rocks.”

An odd look appeared on her face, but she shook her head. “Uh, no, it’s normal fish.” She studied the ceiling for a moment. “I suppose I can serve you early. If you want the fish.”

“Yes, please, ma’am! And bread. And I really liked that nut butter last night. And a salad. And maybe… I guess vegetables.”

She spooned everything together on one plate. “Yeah, well… we did the veggies a little differently. Less water. They’re crispier.”

“Oh, they look great!” As great as vegetables could look anyway. At least they weren’t slimy or dripping. “And could I have a slice of that beautiful pie?”

“Sure. For a little guy, you sure eat a lot.” She handed him a slice of pie on a cold plate.

“Do you think you could warm it up a little?” he asked politely. “And I don’t suppose you have any chanilla?”

“You suppose correctly.” With a martyred sigh, she took the pie and slid it into the warmer.

“Thank you. I hope I’m not eating _too_ much. I’m on bed rest for three days because I have a concussion from being caught in an explosion and almost dying because my femoral artery was cut and now that I’m still alive I don’t want to get fat.”

“Over-sharing,” she commented when she handed him back the pie. “And you’re obviously not complying with the bed rest order.”

“I am! Sort of. But a guy’s gotta eat! Thank you!” Happily, he took the tray over to a table in the nearly-empty room, scarfing everything down quickly. Except for the pie that he lingered over, humming contentedly. He considered asking for a second piece to take back to the barracks, but he was worried that she might say he was eating too much. Maybe he should go on a diet until he could exercise again.

Outside, he inhaled the warm, miserably humid air. “Ugh.” A nearly invisible herd… flock?... of tiny insects swarmed around his face and he batted them away. If he could go running—

“What are you doing here?” Suddenly Boss Dreis— who was supposed to be off duty!— was in front of him frowning at the tools around his waist. “You’re not allowed to be working. Why are you wearing that belt?”

“To keep my pants up?” He offered an innocent smile. “I’m not working, I got something to eat. I’m going right back to lie down.”

“You don’t need a tool belt to eat.”

Luke sighed and lowered his voice. “It’s so my lightsaber isn’t obvious. I _have_ to keep it with me— it’s my _life!_ See?”

“Oh. Well… all right.” Boss hesitated, and Luke decided to leave quickly before he asked anything about the spy-kid.

“See you later! I’m sleepy now!” Escape made, he managed to get back to Rogue barracks without another distraction. Except for shooting a quick look at the building that housed the brig and reaching out briefly to feel exhaustion and subdued panic. He’d have to remind his dad about the kid— when his father wasn’t out of sorts.

Now he just had the rest of the afternoon to get through before everyone came back. He could study. Or not. Or—

The DadBase! He could explore all the forbidden ‘Net sites that he wanted. With a little digging, he could probably find midichlorian information for the doctor, but there was no rush. He retrieved the DadBase decoder and slid it into his holopad, deciding to look up the obvious first.

_Anakin Skywalker._

Wow. There was a list of vids and entries that went back a long time before they came to an abrupt end— Oh. Seventeen years ago. Okay. There was one associated link that caught his eye immediately: _Jedi Temple, Coruscant._ It was probably propaganda, but— no! The information went back forever, which was way further than he wanted to go, so he tried for the past fifty years and was rewarded with tons of articles about the Temple. He clicked on the Images tab, then “interiors”, and stared open-mouthed at the results. “Must be hundreds,” he muttered as he began scrolling.

To his holo-educated aesthetic, the inside of the temple looked dark and sort of… aloof. Lots of high ceilings and wide corridors, giant statues, columns as wide as a bantha and a hundred times taller. It was definitely austere. And it reminded him of the Vjun castle. He’d really hoped his father had grown up somewhere homier.

But he continued searching through the pictures and the years, stopping abruptly when he saw—- gardens! He enlarged the snap. It was beautiful and full of plants and flowers and colors, like on the holo program when the hosts called their creations “lush and vibrant”. There was a pool of water and a fountain— he turned up the volume and could hear its trickling sound. Imagine how much water it had taken to grow the plants and keep the waterfall! Where was there water on Coruscant? Under all the buildings? Maybe water was the secret to Palpatine’s power. Maybe that’s why Coruscant was so full of the Force. The Force was life, right? And most life needed water, right? Well… except for things that weren’t alive but still part of the Force. Like the rocks around the pool.

He lost himself in the snaps and vids, pretending he was there and watching beings of all types—Jedi!— walking around and talking and laughing or just sitting on the rocks, trailing their fingers or bare feet in the water, or practicing stances on wide outdoor pavilions, or sitting in smaller, informal rooms that looked more inviting and warm than the public areas. If things had been different maybe he could have grown up there. Lived there. Learned there. But at least his dad had had this wonderful opportunity.

But why had his father thrown all this away? He’d had _everything!_ Wonderful things that Luke never knew existed.

When he changed the parameters to the last thirty years, he was able to pick out his father a few times. Whether small and slight or grown tall and broad-shouldered, Anakin always seemed to be running or walking very fast. He was never still. He never sat by the water and looked at it— at least not in any of the pictures. Maybe he sat there sometimes at night. Maybe part of the Temple was open to the sky and he had looked up and imagined his mother on Tatooine seeing the same stars.

Eventually the pictures showed the time Luke didn’t want to see, but he couldn’t look away. Stormtroopers marching in unison, hundreds, maybe thousands of them, looking like tiny mouse droids compared to the humongous steps that led up to the Temple entrance. Leading them was a hooded figure in a dark cloak, walking like the way he’d strode past the beautiful water, never looking to the sides, staring forward like there was nothing in front of him except what he expected. _Focused._

There were blasters. Lightsabers. Bodies everywhere, clad in white armor and loose robes. There were children, confused and—

He didn’t want to watch what happened next. He went back to the articles that described the training, how the fledgling Jedi learned about the universe, politics, military tactics— everything his dad was trying to teach him through the endless educational tapes. There were layouts of the Temple and an article that said the adults had their own rooms, while most of the younglings were housed in dormitories except for the… babies… in the crèche.

Luke turned off the holopad and leaned forward, hiding his face in his hands. Did his dad kill the babies too? The _babies?_ While his wife was carrying their own child? Would Vader have killed _him_ if he’d been born earlier? If Luke had been lying there, smiling at his father, would Darth Vader have picked him up and held him for a moment and snapped his neck while Anakin’s tears ran down his face and then put his son’s tiny body back in the crib and walked away and never looked back?

He hated when he cried because his nose got all stopped up and he couldn’t breathe. So he didn’t cry. He got up and went to the ’fresher, splashing water on his face and staring into the mirror like he’d done so many times before. Like looking into his own eyes would give him answers. They never did.

_Could you do it, Luke? Anakin could. What makes you any different?_

_Is it only circumstances? Is it because I’m here, not there? I’m not in a war because my dad won’t let it happen. I can sit on the sofa and watch a show about decorating cookies and forget where I am and who I am. I can save baby birds, I don’t have to kill them. I don’t have to wonder what I should do if I’m given an order to kill innocents. It’s not like— the Death Star was a military target. Sure, there civilian workers on board…._

His father’s voice was an echo. _They knew the risk when they accepted the assignment._ Yeah. Just like his dad’s spy.

_But if I’d been at the Temple, if I’d been a stormtrooper… would I have killed Jedi? Would I have obeyed orders?_

_If I’d been in my father’s place…. If I’d hated the Jedi that much…._

But why? Why had his father hated the Jedi? He _was_ a Jedi. He must have hated them— and hated his _life_ with them— to murder them all. But why? _Why?_

He could find no answers and that left him doubting himself.

_If I’d been there, if I’d been raised there… would I have done it?_

Exhausted, he wiped his face again, grabbed Berrie, scrunched up on the sofa and watched people turn cookies into something they weren’t. That shouldn’t remind him of his dad, but it did. He fell asleep for awhile and woke up in mid-afternoon, thirsty and worn out. He checked the cooler even though he knew it was empty except for beer.

He retrieved his com and entered the commander’s code. It beeped twice.

“Narra.” The background was noisy. It sounded like work being done on a ship, and Luke wished he was there climbing on an x-wing.

“Hi. It’s me. Luke.... I mean, Oz,” he added when Narra didn’t respond immediately.

“What do you need, Oz?”

A lot of things, but most of them wouldn’t come from Narra. “Um... I’m sort of hungry. Could you bring me dinner or a snack or something when you have a chance? And we’re out of milk. Maybe you could bring back a supply?”

“Of course. Anything else I can get you? Reading material perhaps?”

“No, thanks, I have plenty,” he responded before realizing the commander was likely being sarcastic. He decided to respond by tugging on a few heart-strings. “Sorry. I’ve been missing everybody. It’s been a lonely day.”

There was a barely muffled sigh. “I’ll bring you dinner before I go myself. It’ll be about an hour.” Narra paused. “Are you all right?”

“I guess. Thank you. And bring pie please.” Really, if he was someone else listening to himself, he would have thought that he was nearly in tears. Which he was, but not about dinner.

He felt the presence right before his dad said: _That was pathetic._

 _Thank you. Hey— I knew you were there! I mean, before you contacted me. I FELT you!_ His heart was beating so fast that he felt shaky. He couldn’t let his dad know what he’d been thinking about.

 _So much for my former advantage of surprise._ But his father didn’t sound sorry, more like mildly proud. Unless Luke was reading too much into his tone. _I’m gratified that your skills are progressing rapidly. However— are you resting?_

 _I’m resting, I’m resting. And watching the holo. Did you know there are shows about cookies? And gardens? And people arguing about nothing?_ Krit, he was babbling. _And I studied last night about monopolies. Why? I’m not going to make a monopoly._

 _It’s part of a well-rounded education._ Now Vader sounded uneasy, but Luke supposed he didn’t know that Luke was thinking about his annihilation of the Jedi Temple occupants. Which was a good thing. That must be horrible for his dad to think about, just like Luke didn’t like to think about the Death Star. Or that other spy, the one he’d—

No. He needed to divert his thoughts to another route. _What’s wrong, Dad? You sound worried._

_I still wish I could have figured a way to keep you here._

Okay, he’d said that twice. His father didn’t usually repeat himself unless he was scolding, and he wasn’t scolding now. Which meant that the repetition of his ‘wish’ was about his own pain and isolation, not about Luke’s well-being. Obviously Luke needed to love on his dad a little more. He fumbled for the right words that would reassure and cheer Darth Vader that didn’t involve strangling or murder.

_I wish that, too, Dad. I didn’t want to leave you. But you had to keep me safe, we both understand. You did what you had to. But I miss you. A lot._

_Yes._ Not an enthusiastic or very believable response. Vader continued: _Let’s meditate tonight, Son. Late, when you won’t be interrupted._

_Okay. Can we go somewhere?_

_Of course. Your choice._ His father seemed to pause, and Luke thought he would say more, but he didn’t.

_Okay, I’ll think of a place. And I have a brilliant idea about something fun we can do. Maybe even TWO brilliant ideas. Possibly three!_

There. That got a silent chuckle. _I look forward to hearing about them. And, Bug…._

 _What?_ he asked cautiously, feeling like he was tiptoeing into a mine field.

_I will also expect to hear the reasons why you feel so miserable._

_I’m not miserable! I just hate resting._ Maybe he should try more heart-string tugging. _And it’s been so lonely. Everybody else is working. I’ve been here by myself all day._

_Hmm. We’ll discuss that later, Bug._

Great. He picked up Berrie and looked at him. “Now I have to come up with something brilliant. And somewhere to meditate that won’t make me think of the Temple. And a good reason why I’m sad.”

He sat quietly, thinking for nearly five minutes before he wanted to go out or maybe take a nap. Anything to stop his brain. But he couldn’t resist going back to the ’Net and the Jedi Temple listing. He selected the last entry from seventeen years ago, flinching back, ready to cut it off if there was—

It simply said _Redirected._ Cautiously he selected that option, blinking a few times at the pictures, unable to make sense of the scrabbled images, gray and fuzzy. So he clicked on the year that followed and everything became clear.

 _Reconstruction and Rehabilitation_ it said. _Dedicated to the Glory of the New Empire._ It was destruction, simple and unsurprising. Construction equipment inside the Temple, ripping apart Jedi art, tearing up patterned marble floors.

He forwarded another year, two years. Everything was beautiful again. But dark. Gloomy. Mysteries hidden among the columns. He didn’t think he would ever want to go there now. Overwhelmed, he closed the screen.

But the availability of so much information waiting at the ends of his fingers lured him back. Brilliant idea! He searched Dr. Andres, just to be sure he was a real doctor and not an Imperial spy watching him. As soon as he thought that, he wondered if he was paranoid. He made himself read instead of think and was interested to learn that the doctor’s parents weren’t wealthy and he’d been a scholarship student at the Carosi VII Academy of Medicine. Huh. Outer Rim. No wonder he seemed like a normal guy. And Carosi… that was the transplant/implant center Andres had recommended.

There was more— graduated third in his class, a brief, failed marriage…. Now Luke felt like _he_ was the spy, so he turned off his holopad. Enough. Still….

Fortunately his curiosity was distracted by the door to the barracks opening. Dinner already? Ooh— no, something better— company! Luke sat up and straightened his shirt. “Was I thinking about you too hard?”

 _“Were_ you thinking about me?” Cristov Andres smiled slightly and his ridiculous goatee wriggled.

“I was looking you up on the Holonet.”

“Hmm. I guess that’s what spies do.” The doctor laughed.

“I am _not_ a spy! Why do you think that?!”

“Because your file says you’re an ‘undercover operative’. Which I think means ‘spy’, right?”

“Agh!” Luke rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what an undercover operative is and why somebody wrote that! I’m nobody. I’m just here.”

“Well, you’re not ‘nobody’, and there are definitely secrets surrounding you.” Andres leaned against the wall next to the door. “Did you discover any secrets about me?”

Luke shifted uncomfortably. “No. But third in your class? Who were the other two?”

“Fortunately they were friends, so we had a healthy competition. Of course I _let_ them win.” The smile widened before the physician became serious. “Narra asked me to check up on you. He’s concerned.”

Luke couldn’t help frowning. Andres could have said _he_ was concerned— about his patient anyway, because they weren’t friends yet. “He’s supposed to bring me dinner.”

“He said that.” Cris tilted his head. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“Oh, krit!” He _knew_ his nose would get red if he cried. “I was _not!_ I have allergies. Well… okay, maybe I was crying earlier, but I’m not now, so—so—”

“Why were you sad?”

He stared at Cris. “Are you _sure_ you’re not a counselor?” When it didn’t look like he would get a response, he sighed. “I was just reading sad things online.”

One eyebrow raised questioningly. Dr. Andres looked like he was going to wait until he got more information.

“About… war. When the Jedi were wiped out. You want to sit down?”

“Sure, but I’m on call. I pulled swing shift relief duty today.” The doctor pushed away from the wall and sat in one of the newly-placed chairs, which totally justified Luke’s dedication to his decorating. “Maybe you shouldn’t read things that upset you.”

“Why? What’s wrong with being sad or upset?” Uncomfortably he realized that Andres said things that sounded like Luke had said to his father. “Anyway… thanks for coming over. I’ll be glad when I’m done with resting tomorrow.”

“Good try, but you have two more days to go, kiddo.”

Luke frowned and leaned forward. “Y’know, I can help out if you have any emergencies. I need to practice healing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the other said, though Luke heard doubt. “But it’s much more important that you eat a healthy dinner and go to bed early.”

Really, there was no point in having both a father _and_ a doctor if they were going to say the same things.

There was some fumbling at the door knob, before the door was kicked open and Zev stumbled in, looking back over his shoulder. “Stop shoving! What’s your rush?”

“You’re so slow!” Janson called, then: “Oof! What’re you doing now?”

Zev had come to a halt in the doorway, staring at the room. “I think we’re in the wrong barracks.” Slowly he turned his head. “Luke, what the hell did you do?”

# # #


	9. Entanglement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is trying to bond with his friends, but they pose a difficult question that Luke doesn’t like. Even his father isn’t as supportive as he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a busy chapter - enjoy! ♥️♥️♥️

“Who, me? I didn’t do anything!” The protest was completely automatic, and he had to backtrack. “Just rearranged things a little.”

“A little!?” Zev put what looked like a very heavy tray on the table. Food! “You’ve— Where did this furniture— Is that Night Shift’s sofa?”

“They weren’t using it.”

“Luke!” Wes Janson was wide-eyed as he juggled another tray of food. “You did all this? It actually looks pretty good— I’m proud of you.”

“He's supposed to be resting,” Zev said pointedly as the other three Rogue pilots spilled into the room with more food.

“Wow! Hey— not bad!” Porkins headed toward the new/old sofa.

“That’s my spot!” Luke exclaimed. “You can’t sit there!”

Hobbie mumbled something and Wedge chuckled.

“You can have my old place,” he offered to Porkins, who looked at the other sofa before nodding happily.

“Dibs on that corner!”

“What’s going on?” Cris Andres asked mildly, but his gaze was fixed on Luke.

“Uh… hey, guys, you all know Captain Dr. Andres?”

Two nods, two no’s, and one, “I haven’t had the misfortune. No offense, Doc,” from Janson.

“None taken.”

“What’s with the food?” Luke was excited to see what they’d been able to appropriate.

“We had a supply run to Coronet City so we brought back take-out,” Wes said cheerfully.

“You  _ did? _ And I  _ missed _ it?!”

“No, hon, I’m teasing. You’re cute.” Wes patted Luke’s arm. “Sir was worried that you were alone, so we brought our dinners back here to eat with you. Didn’t know you already had… mmm... company. But we have plenty, Doc, so you can join us.”

“Thanks, but I only came to check on my patient. I’m on call—”

“Then stay until they call you!” Luke felt a tad queasy, wondering how much the commander would scold him when he saw the changes. “Sir will be back soon, I suppose?”

“Any second,” Wedge said. “I think I’ll go clean up.”

“I think we all will,” Zev added. “Not that we’re leaving you to face Narra alone, of course.”

“Of course not.” He made a face as they magically vanished into their bunks or the ‘fresher. 

Andres raised his eyebrows. “What are you worried about? What did you do today? Please don’t tell me you were actually moving furniture.”

“Okay, I won’t.” He smiled brightly. “But it’s not what you’re thinking— Oh.”

Narra was silhouetted in the doorway, balancing a stack of pie plates above his head using only one hand, which made Luke wonder if he’d worked in a restaurant at some point in his life.

“What the hell!” The commander’s face set into rigid lines. “Luke. I don’t believe it. Is  _ this _ what you did when you were supposedly resting?”

“Yes,” he repeated before deciding that being agreeable was getting him nowhere. “And I  _ was _ resting! I didn’t use my… well, body. Here, let me help you with that.” It was easier to demonstrate than explain. He flourished his hand like an emperor would, and the pies pulled off Narra’s palm and floated over to the table where they fanned out neatly. “See? I did it that way. And Night Shift left their furniture here! Why shouldn’t we use it?”

Narra exchanged a look with Andres, whose mouth was gaping in an unbecoming fashion. He wouldn’t be so surprised if he'd truly believed Luke’s claim that Energy = The Force.

His demonstration apparently soothed the commander’s objections (or concern, whatever it was). “I see. Well… sit down and have something to eat.”

“Okay! Hey, good thing I moved in extra chairs, right? I  _ thought _ we might have guests someday! Cris, park it.”

“First name basis?” Sir asked Andres, who shrugged.

“Is it safe?” Wes peeked out of the ‘fresher as the pilots trickled back into the room and began grabbing at the food. “Here, we brought milk as ordered, Majesty.”

“Great! Wedge? Anyone else?” He felt a moment of nostalgia for the meeting room on the Executor when he had offered everyone water. No one accepted that time, but this time Wedge wanted a carton. Luke took one, then headed for the cooler with the rest.

“Just leave it. You shouldn’t be lifting—” the doctor began, but Wedge interrupted.

“Don’t bother. Luke’s gonna do what Luke’s gonna do,” and a few others nodded in agreement.

But he was back at the table in a flash, inspecting the remaining covered dishes.

“That one is yours,” Zev pointed out. “The cook said you’ll only eat fish.”

“She knew where I lived? Cool!” He was pleased and unwrapped a plate that was identical to his lunch. Really, he wouldn’t mind something heftier to sink his teeth into, just not a woolamander.

“That’s why she sent pies. For the little guy who eats twice his weight, she said.”

“That’s not true! But yay, because I’m literally  _ starving. _ Famished. Ready to faint.” He speared a veggie, but as usual it was too quiet. “I don’t like listening to chewing. Didn’t the old audio player get repaired?”

“Pah. It’s still not working.” Wes frowned. “I think Night Shift broke it on purpose. And we can’t get a new one because it’s considered a ‘luxury’ and they’re only allowing one per barracks.”

“Yeah, and Night got a new one when they moved to the old Green-Brown-Red, whatever, barracks.”

“I’ll bet I can fix it!” Luke jumped up. “I can fix anything! I’m like a miracle repairer!”

Hobbie muttered something about hell freezing over, which made Luke think of ice skating and wonder if a hot place could also freeze. And that reminded him, like so many things did, of his dad, and that gave him his answer.

_ Hot and cold at the same time. You betcha. _

Commander Narra looked at the frowning Dr. Andres. “As Antilles said, Luke’s gonna do what Luke’s gonna do. We can only rein him in so much. I call it ‘an exercise in futility’ to even try. Unless it’s in extreme circumstances,” he added darkly.

Luke ignored the possible reminder of former misbehaviors. The past was the past. “What a piece of junk!” he exclaimed as he pried off the top of the unit. “We should have a new one.”

“We can’t… unless this one is irretrievably broken,” Wes noted nicely.

That was definitely a hint. “Hmm… let me see, I’m certain that I can fix it…. Oh, dear.” He gave a yank and held up a handful of severed wires. “It’s definitely not fixable, not even by me. Look, some of these are stripped and fused together. It’s a fire hazard. Commander…?”

“I’ll put in a requisition.” Narra sounded resigned. “Now sit down and eat your damned dinner.”

Luke grinned and elbowed the commander’s shoulder as he returned to his seat. “I am. It’s not very tasty though.”

Hobbie pushed a small container at him. “Add some spice to it. Or just have the spice by itself.”

There was a silence that dragged on for seconds, and Luke was aware of the physician’s sudden attention. “Thank you,” he said with dignity, accepting the shaker and allowing the discomfort to extend before saying: “Imagine this, Klivian: we’re finally in a battle. Outnumbered, but we’re good and we’re all managing to stay alive. Except… well, darn, you have a TIE on your tail and you can’t shake it. Now imagine there’s only one pilot close enough to take it down and save your life.”

Wes choked and Zev punched his arm.

“Now, Hobbie… imagine that pilot is  _ me. _ What would be going through your head during that instant of realization? Would it be, ‘he’s gonna save me!’ or ‘shit, I wish I’d been nicer to him’. Would you be feeling relief or fear?”

Hobbie pretended his meal was very interesting and didn’t respond. Luke decided to let him off the hook by changing the subject. Back to himself. Which, he supposed, is where it actually had been all along.

“Hey, do you think I’m getting too old and serious and boring?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Wes.

“Yes.” Zev.

“We didn’t want to point it out.” Wedge.

“I’m ready for pie.” Porkins.

Both Andres and Narra chuckled, so Luke was satisfied that he’d completed his comedic duty. And maybe he was finally fitting back into the group. It was sure taking a lot of hard work though!

# # #

“So what did you do at your dad’s place?” Janson asked later when they were satisfactorily stuffed and lazing around.

“Mmmm….” Luke curled up on his sofa but thoughtfully left enough room for Zev and Wes to sit (way too close together) at the other end. “I dunno. Stuff.”

“I’m going to the Command office,” Narra announced, which Luke thought might or might not be true. Maybe Narra was going to talk to Dr. Andres who’d been ‘beeped’ away. Maybe they were going to talk about Luke.

_ Everything isn’t about you, _ he reminded himself. However, Wes was talking about him and now the others looked interested. Funny how everyone got more curious about everything once their commanding officer wasn’t around.

“C’mon, spill! Did you fly a TIE?” Wedge grinned. “At… Sienar Shipyards? Or maybe Kuat?”

Luke gave him a Look. “I did not fly a TIE in those or any other shipyard.”

“Ah, a qualification,” Zev noted. “So you flew a TIE somewhere else.”

Well. There was no harm in bragging a little. “Just once. I told you that we had to fight some pirates, remember?”

“Yeah. Did you win?”

Time for another Look, this one aimed at Senesca.

“I guess so,” Zev decided. “What happened to the pirates?”

“What pirates?” Luke winked.

“Want another milk?” Wedge asked, pulling a beer out of the cooler. “Zev, Wes, beer?”

“Sure, but you can’t have one.” Wes yawned. “Sir Narra will scold you.”

“Only if someone tells him!” Wedge protested, scowling.

“No milk for me,” Luke intervened, “but as long as you’re up, could you get my wrap? I’m a little chilly.” He wondered how long he could string out this invalid treatment. “The one that Wes gave me. It’s on my bunk.”

Wedge put his fists on his hips. “Not a chance, your royal highness. Get off your butt and get it yourself.”

“Oh!” Zev and Janson exclaimed at once, then looked at each other. With a gracious nod, Zev bestowed permission to speak onto Wes. “Speaking of royalty, guess who came looking for you last week?”

Well, if it was a royal highness, there was only one answer. “Leia?”

_ “Leia, _ he says! Are you on a first-name basis with everybody? Including royalty?”

“She’s only a girl,” Luke replied wearily.  _ Maybe my sister. But maybe not. All I have is circumstantial evidence unless— _ Krit. What if Leia got a blood test and turned out to be part Energy? He needed to talk to Cris and figure a way to explain that, just in case.

_ “Only a girl!  _ She likes you. She probably wants to smooch with you again.” Porkins smiled gleefully and made kissy sounds.

Ugh. “Please. All she wants is to talk to somebody her own age instead of you elderly guys.” He wriggled his feet, trying to think of a diversion. “Is there anything good on the holo?”

“Now that you’re back, I suppose we can’t watch any more porn.” Yet another dig from Hobbie, who was becoming annoying.

“Go ahead, I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your only possible romantic companion.” Luke looked meaningfully at Klivian. “Anyway, I’m going to bed and meditate and then sleep. So do what you want. Ahem.” He cleared his throat in case he was being too subtle.

Wes giggled until Zev covered his mouth. “Hey, Luke! Don’t go away mad!”

“Just go away,” Hobbie added.

“Careful, Klivian, or Narra will send us on a long mission together so we can bond.” Luke stood and stretched. “Seriously, I’m turning in. See you tomorrow.” 

Before he could move, he felt the atmosphere in the room shift in some indescribable way, and he hesitated.

“Wait,” Zev said quietly, and Luke stopped. No one was looking directly at him. His belly clenched.

“What’s wrong?”

Wes heaved a sigh, and Wedge tilted his head toward Hobbie. Luke folded his arms and waited.

“All right.” Hobbie began to rise, but subsided when Zev held up one hand. “I’ll say what we’ve all been wondering. And talking about.”

Luke pulled his arms tighter against his ribs. “What?”

“You said— what you said earlier,” the other pilot began, “about being in a battle—”

“I’d save you,” Luke said quickly. “I didn’t really mean that I wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t— I mean, I know...sort of… but….”

“What Mr. Eloquence here is trying to say,” Wedge interjected, “is that none of us is sure exactly which side you’re on. We never have been.”

Oh. Well. He wasn’t immediately sure how to answer.

“We know you said you’re trying to be neutral, hon. But if we’re in a fight… you  _ have _ to choose. We can’t….” Wes’s voice shook and gave out. He stared down and plucked at his sleeve.

“None of us want you up there if we can’t trust you,” Hobbie blurted. “If you’d rather fly TIEs than shoot them, we don’t want you with us.”

Luke swallowed and bit his lip, suspecting his face was going pale because he felt a sick tremor shivering through his body. He couldn’t blame them. If he was being honest with himself, he was surprised it took so long for them to ask. “I wouldn’t—” His throat closed and he had to wait for it to open enough to let him speak. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you guys. You must know that.”

“But we don’t.” Porkins met his eyes. “And we need to. Luke, it’s great that… that you spend time with your father and all. But he’s an Imperial and when you’re with him, you’re with other Imperials, right?”

“Other Imperials?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t… I mean, I’ve met a few, but… no one that would be in a TIE fighter.”

“Your father flies TIEs, you said that.”

He hated that Wes had a good memory. “Yeah, but not in a battle!”

“You just fought pirates together!” Hobbie threw up his hands. “C’mon!”

“That’s different!” His own breath was choking him. “And I— He— He wouldn’t fight  _ me!  _ And I wouldn’t fight him! It’s not something that would ever happen! I have your backs! I would never let anything happen to any of you!”

Glances were exchanged between them like they were a jury deciding his fate, and he’d always hated being judged. “How can you think I wouldn’t fight Imperials? I blew up the freakin’ Death Star, remember?!”

Zev looked down. “True,” he said, but there was still doubt in his tone.

“I can’t believe you guys!” Luke shook his head. “I wouldn’t— I  _ promise _ I’ll always have your backs. You’re as much my family as my dad is.”  _ Almost. _

“And if we come up against him?” Wedge asked bluntly.

“We won’t. He’s not a— He won’t attack us.” If only he could tell them who his dad was and how they were protected by him— but now that he knew how they felt, that would destroy their trust fully and finally.

“Well, I guess we’d better hope we don’t run into him accidentally.” Wes tried to soothe him with a smile, but Luke was in no mood for it.

“Yeah, you’d  _ better _ hope that,” he snapped and stalked away. But before going into his bunk, he stopped and spoke, though he couldn’t turn around to look at them. “And shame on all of you for thinking— after all this time— that I’d let you die. I thought you knew me better.”

# # #

After angrily brushing away tears, he wondered if he should take a nap before reaching out to his father. Although he wasn’t sleepy. Was it too early? Vader had said ‘late’. Maybe he was being needlessly worried about where to go. Or about telling his dad what happened. Or anxious for his dad’s defense and indignation.

It was hard to breathe, but he managed to yank on his star-covered pajamas bottoms and his Deep Space Sprite shirt, and swirled Wes’s scarf around his head and shoulders. Berrie secured against his chest, he closed his eyes, tugged on the string that connected him to Darth Dad, and  _ focused. _

_ This is your brilliant idea of where to meet? In your bunk? _

Luke opened his non-eyes and non-saw his non-father sitting at the foot of his non-bed.  _ No. I have a few questions before I tell you my brilliant ideas. _

_ All right, but first I have a question. _ Darth Vader’s bug-eyed helmet  _ focused _ on him.

_ Oh, sure, you always have to be first, _ he grumbled.

His dad ignored his complaint, which was good because he didn’t mean it.  _ Tell me why you are upset and agitated. _

_ I’m not agitated! Anyway, I already TOLD you! I’m bored and lonely and I can’t exercise and I miss you! _

_ No. There’s something else. _ His father’s hand rested on his knee, and he could actually feel it.  _ What’s wrong, Son? _

Luke dropped his head between his hands, pressing the palms against his temples.  _ They don’t trust me. They ambushed me. They wanted to know what would happen in a battle— if I would protect them or side with the Imps. _

_ Hmm. _ His dad’s helmet tilted.  _ Are you surprised? It’s a legitimate concern given how much you speak about me and the time you spend with me. If you had been more discreet— _

_ Don’t even go there! _ Luke groaned and slumped forward.

_ Did you remind them about the Death Star? _

_ Yes. _ He sighed heavily.

_ Well then… I trust that quieted them. _

_ I guess. _

_ Forget about them for now. On to other topics, _ Vader declared, as if forgetting that your friends didn’t trust you would be easy.  _ Have you watched the tape I made for you? _

_ No. Why? _ Luke narrowed his eyes.  _ Will it make me more miserable? _ That was it? He’d expected sympathy or anger and got— nothing?!

Vader sighed.  _ Probably, given your penchant for over-dramatizing everything. _

_ ME? _ Oh, the irony of that accusation!  _ Fine! Can I ask MY questions now? _

_ Very well. If you cannot give me a better answer, I will indulge you this time, Bug. But only because you bothered to get dressed up for my visit. _

_ Funny-hah-hah! _ Truthfully, he loved when his dad teased him, and it made it easier to push aside the memory of his squad’s reaction. _ You ‘indulge’ me every time. But now update me! What’s going on with you and your legs and getting an implant and all that stuff? What do you want me to do? Should I get more info about the implant? Or schedule a date to do it? _

_ LeKauf is taking care of everything. All you need to do right now is rest and heal. _

Hmm. Well, that was good and bad. LeKauf better not be doing Son Duties.  _ Well… okay. What about the spy kid? What’s going to happen to him? _

_ I’ll take care of him. Don’t fret. _

Was that Darth Vader ‘taking care’ of someone or was it Anakin Skywalker? Either way there was probably strangulation or a lightsaber involved.

_ Dad, be nice to him! Okay, here comes my first brilliant idea. Tomorrow is my last day of rest and then I go back to— _

_ You have two more days. _

_ Uh, no, one day. Tomorrow. _

_ Two more days. _

Luke pursed his lips. Everyone was against him.  _ It depends how you count. Yesterday was my first day and today is my second, so tomorrow is the last. _

_ And to think that you have studied differential calculus. You are 24 hours into your three-day rest. You have 48 more to go. Two more days. _

_ Well…. Yavin doesn’t have 24 hours in a day. It has… uh… more… or less. (And please, please never test me on that incomprehensible x and y stuff!) _

_ “However long or short you feel the days are on Yavin, in two more of them you will be done resting. Now you may continue your original statement. ‘Then I go back to’ was what you were saying. _

_ Sure, NOW you have a didactic memory! _

_ I suspect you mean ‘eidetic’. What happened to the vocabulary tapes? _

_ Whatever!  _ Luke rolled his eyes and his father’s helmet disappeared and Anakin smiled.  _ I was saying that then I go back to work and maybe we can meet on my day off. Maybe every week! And… anyway, here comes the idea! _ He concentrated and—

—they were in the elite shopping district of downtown Coronet City. People walked through them, and Luke pulled his dad’s arm to get him out of the way. Even though they weren’t actually… there.

_ So! We can shop after you get your new legs on and lungs in, or we can shop NOW! I mean, not this instant, but on my day off. What do you think? Brilliant, right? _

_ I think I might be conspicuous strolling along the streets, Son. _

_ I’ve thought of that! _ He was supremely pleased with himself.  _ You have extra helmets— you can modify one. _

_ Modify?  _ His father’s expression was skeptical.

_ Yeah, this is my second brilliant idea. Dad, you built an entire ship! How hard can it be to fix a helmet?  _ he asked earnestly.  _ Shave off the edges, smooth out the front. Make it like a Mandalorian. Flat. And remodulate your vocoder. And make a new chest plate to cover your buttons. And a cloak in a different color. And spray-paint the rest of you. Then we could shop for our new uniforms in blue with gold stars! _

_ That would certainly be inconspicuous. _

_ Yes! _ He grinned at the lighthearted remark. His dad could always put him in a better mood… when he wanted to.  _ And when you put on your new legs, you’ll be shorter so you’ll be completely unrecognizable. How much shorter are they anyway? _

_ Well…. _

When he didn’t get an immediate answer, he was suspicious.  _ You said you got shorter legs. They ARE shorter, aren’t they? _

_ Yes, of course. _

He steered them down the street, struggling to ignore people walking through them, because he still couldn’t handle the reality that they weren’t real people. Unless  _ they _ were real but he and his dad weren’t. Luke sighed.  _ How much shorter? _

Anakin echoed his sigh.  _ Four inches. _

_ You mean they’re only four inches long?  _ Luke giggled— then frowned.  _ Wait! You mean they’re four inches shorter? Was that your pre-Sith height? _

_ I was perhaps a bit shorter than that. _

_ Dad! So… you’re only taking off four inches? You’re going to be too tall! _

_ There is no such thing, _ his father huffed.  _ I am used to towering over others and wish to continue to do so. _

_ But Dad-Dad-Dad, think about it! Please! If you dressed different and sounded different and were a normal height, we could live like normal people. Like civilians! _

His father’s laugh sang across his senses.  _ You have lost your mind, my wildly creative child. Please retrieve it from wherever it went. _

Luke snorted.  _ I don’t think— OH!  _ he shrieked, suddenly distracted. _ DAD— LOOK! _

To Anakin’s credit, he wasn’t even a little bit startled.  _ At what? _

_ ICE SKATING! See the sign?! It’s an ice floor! Indoors! The guys told me about these places! Can we— _ No, no, he had important things to talk about.  _ When we’re really here, I want to try it! And you can do it, too. _

_ Is that your third brilliant idea? You told me three. _

_ Yeah, I did. _ He paused halfway through the window of an exclusive shop.  _ No, that’s not it. I have another. Promise you won’t get mad at me. _

_ Now I’m frightened, _ his father teased.  _ I will make no such promise until I know what you have in mind. _

_ Okay. _ His heart was pounding, even if it wasn’t real. He faltered, worried that he was about to make a bad day even worse, but he had to know. He took a deep breath and then—

They were sitting on the rocks next to the pond in the Jedi Temple.


	10. Into the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader and Luke spent time together exploring the Jedi Temple. Vader tells Luke more about that time, and they share deep meditation— and fluffy bonding.

The pond looked exactly like the vids and snaps he’d seen on the ‘Net. Which, considering he’d never been here and never would be, made sense.

Luke stayed very still, like he would if he was trying not to attract the attention of a desert predator. But he didn’t need to be cautious; it was only his dad next to him, and his dad wasn’t moving either. The extended silence was getting awkward.

He dared to glance at his father’s profile, debating whether it was time to talk about Feelings or shut up about them. He splashed his toes in the water. It wasn’t wet. It felt more like air.

“I saw this online,” he said, unable to wait any longer. “I don’t know if it looks okay. And I saw other snaps of the Temple, but not enough that I could recreate it so we could walk around. At least not very well. Unless we sort of… drop into different hallways. There were a lot of halls. And columns. It was really… big.” _Shut up, Luke,_ he scolded.

Anakin’s gaze finally lifted from the water and flitted around the edges of the pond. There were a few hazy beings on the other side. Luke hadn’t quite remembered what the specific Jedi looked like because the snaps were from different time periods so he supposed they were different people. They looked more like ghosts or the remnants of people who had—

“So….” his father began, and Luke snapped to attention. “I give you unlimited access to the Underground Database and _this_ is what you look up?”

“Well, you _said_ no pornography.” He tried to wink but his eyelid only twitched. “And no! I mean, not exactly. I looked up _you_ first and there were tons of links and I saw one that said Jedi Temple and that’s where this came from.” He felt his father watching him, so he grimaced apologetically and offered a small smile, finally peeking at Anakin. “I wanted to see what it used to look like and— There were some vids of you! In the background, sort of. Running around. Even when you were little.”

“Hmm.” Long legs unwound and Anakin pushed to his feet. “Did you think seeing the Temple would upset me?”

Luke scrambled after him. “You mean— Wait, are you asking if I _wanted_ to upset you? Of course not! I just wanted to know how you grew up.”

“The same way everyone grows up.” His father turned around, but there was nothing to see because Luke had only focused on the snaps of the pond, not what was behind it. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Only little hints. It seemed pretty comfortable. An article said that youngling padawans lived in dormitories. Did you? That must have been fun.”

“I had my own room. Come this way.” Anakin led him into nothingness. “Find one of your corridors. You need to—”

“Focus, I know.” He mentally thumbed through the images and selected the large space with the huge columns. “Man, this place is gigantic! Way to make everybody feel tiny and insignificant!”

“Putting us into perspective, I suppose.” His dad touched one of the columns. “I was older than the others and without training. They didn’t want me contaminating them with my ignorance and my attachments to my mother and my friends back home.”

So it had started out badly. Anakin had felt isolated and homesick. Luke tried to think of a question, then thought this might be one of those rare moments when he should be quiet and wait.

“They didn’t want to train me. They didn’t want me here, but what else could be done with me? Kenobi took me as his padawan only because it was Qui-Gon’s dying command. When we were still on Tatooine, Obi-Wan called me a ‘pathetic lifeform’. I never told him I knew that.”

Isolated, feeling unwanted, and starting out with a lie. Why did that sound familiar? Luke shifted and stared at his feet.

Anakin walked around the column, dragging his forefinger along the surface, then leaned back against it. “I never fit in properly. Some of them believed I was the Chosen One, some didn’t. But no one knew exactly what that meant or what I was supposed to do or be.”

Luke sank onto the floor. It felt cool and real. He crossed his legs.

His father slid down the column and sat at the base of it. “You already know, Bug, what it feels like to not be fully trusted. To always wonder what your purpose is. What you are supposed to be. I never found my answers with the Jedi. I was never quite… right.” He pulled up one knee and draped his arm over it. “What else did you see when you ransacked my history?”

He winced before realizing his father wasn’t angry, more like hesitant. Or maybe… curious? “I saw you on a platform outside, practicing katas. You were maybe about my age. And I saw you working on some kind of mechanical thing. And... I saw you leading stormtroopers up the Temple steps.”

“Clone troopers.”

“Okay, clones. I didn’t watch any more. You told me what happened. I didn’t need to see it. But….” Now that he was close to asking what he wanted to know, he hesitated.

“Ask.”

Luke drew a long breath that shook unexpectedly when he released it. “You said you killed the younglings, but… there was a nursery. With babies. Did you…?”

“Kill them?” A black haze shimmered across his father’s face. After a few seconds, it dissipated. “Yes.”

Oh. He hadn’t expected a direct answer. He’d been ready for a vehement denial or at least reasons or excuses. Now he didn’t know how to react.

“There were only a few of them. They were easy to kill. I just—”

“Snapped their necks,” Luke said softly.

“You saw that?” Anakin sounded mildly surprised. “Did it bother you?”

_Did it BOTHER_ _me?_ “Of course it did! Seriously, Dad!” Luke rubbed his knuckles against his cheek. “I didn’t see a vid. I just sorta wondered if you— Well. Okay, I wondered what would have happened if I’d been born and was in that nursery. And I thought that you’d have held me and snapped _my_ neck, too. And maybe cried a little.”

“Did you actually See any such scene?”

“I… well, I couldn’t have, could I? I guess I imagined what might have been. But it seemed real enough.”

“Your imagination is….” The other man sighed heavily. “If you had been there, Luke, I wouldn’t have killed you. I would have taken you and hid you and trained you. I wouldn’t have hurt you. Here, focus and See what could have been.”

“I wish you’d stop using the F-word,” he grumbled. “Focus-mokus-pokus!”

“Then _center_ your thoughts with my thoughts and See.”

_How the krit do I do that?_ He stared into his dad’s eyes.

_Language. Use your mind, not your physical vision. Close your eyes._

He grabbed onto that instruction before it could get away. It was easier to foc— _center—_ when his dad started it. There was a blur, then walls and a ceiling. It was quiet except for barely audible thrashing and incoherent mumblings, and in the room—

_Cribs. Ten cribs, five occupied, the rest stripped of bedding, waiting. A man walked in, his face disguised beneath a hood. Luke gurgled a greeting. Two big hands reached for him. He wasn’t afraid. He smiled. The man raised him high, his eyes soft and surprised. Luke kicked, fighting to free his feet from the blanket that was wrapped around him tightly. The man chuckled and pulled him closer and closer until Luke couldn’t see anything. But something smooth was under his cheek and he cooed with delight, snuggling against its softness._

_“How are you here, little one?” the man whispered against his head, his breath warm, his voice oddly familiar. “How are you here?” A large finger brushed gently against his nose, and he giggled, trying to free his arm so he could touch the man in return._

_Short, tiny bleats came from the others. Then it was quiet and everything got dark and a giant blanket surrounded him. He tried to wriggle free, but he was cuddled and rocked. He yawned and closed his—_

Luke shivered, feeling a deep contentment. “That’s better.” He looked at his father. “How did you make me see that? I don’t know how to do that!”

“It requires much use of the F-word,” his dad said drily. “I will teach you one day.”

“Now would be good.”

Anakin shook his head. “Another time. What you saw was what could have happened but didn’t. Events did not unfold as they should have. The Jedi betrayed the Republic and I had to protect it.”

“Palpatine betrayed the Republic.” At least his dad would have saved him. That was something. Unless strangling Padme with Luke inside her counted as trying to kill him. “He made it into his personal empire.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be that way. Everything was supposed to be better. The goal was peace and freedom. Sound familiar?” Anakin smiled crookedly, but his eyes became shadowed under lowered lashes, darkening until they were nearly black. “We can’t see into the future, at least not reliably. Those times were like these times. Rebellion, treachery— we didn’t know how things would turn out then, and we don’t know now.”

Well, that was certainly depressing. But at least his dad was talking, and Luke understood better that his father— Anakin Skywalker-Vader— saw himself as a victim, not a villain. And, he supposed, the two were interchangeable depending on who was doing the looking. “But why did you hate the Jedi so much? You spent so much of your life with them.”

“Hate them?” Anakin looked surprised. “I didn’t hate them. Not then.”

“But you killed them.”

“It was necessary. Or seemed so. Now I understand how much Palpatine managed me. But I didn’t kill them out of hate.” He paused, reminiscing. “To some extent I enjoyed it— the satisfaction I felt as I looked into familiar faces filled with surprise and fear. I had total power over them.”

He had a flash of memory. _What would be going through your head during that instant of realization? Would it be, ‘he’s gonna save me!’ or ‘shit, I wish I’d been nicer to him’. Would you be feeling relief or fear?_ “I know the feeling.”

“Yes. And now… I don’t regret what I did. The time of the Jedi had passed. They were no longer what they were intended to be. Confusion and corruption had begun to infiltrate their ranks.”

_Yeah, I’m looking at YOU, Dad._

“I heard that.”

“Oops.” But his father didn’t feel angry. “Still… you did the judging and carried out the sentence.”

“Palpatine was the judge.” The elder Skywalker shrugged. “I didn’t disagree with his assessment. Have I disappointed you? Did you believe I would prostrate myself and beg for your forgiveness and understanding?”

Luke sighed. “No, you haven’t disappointed me. Honestly, Dad, nothing you do even _surprises_ me any longer. Which is not a challenge!” he added hastily. Okay, subject change, quick! He scooted over and raised one hand. “Let’s measure.”

“What?” Distracted from his darker musings, Anakin’s brows drew together.

“Our hands.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! Why not? If they’re almost the same size, maybe it means I’ll grow taller.”

With an eye roll, his father obliged and held up his right hand. Luke pressed his palm against it. The hand wasn’t real flesh, and they weren’t really here, and he wasn’t really feeling it, but still— “Krit. My hand is the size of a troll’s.”

A bark of laughter was torn from Anakin. “What sort of unflattering comparison is that?”

He grinned, pleased that he’d amused his dad. “I can’t feel your real hand. How come I can do that sometimes but not all the time?”

“You need more F-wording.”

Luke clucked in mock dismay. “Okay, fine, forget I ever said that! What should I _FOCUS_ on if I want to feel stuff while we’re meditating? Like it’s real?”

“Focus on what you desire. It takes practice, Luke. We’ll work on it from time to time.”

“Now would be good.” Suggesting that for a second time had no better result than the first time. Another thought interrupted him. “Hey, I’m talking out loud! Do you think the guys hear me?”

“You tell me. Check on them. And don’t say that you don’t know how. I’m teaching you.” Anakin linked their fingers together. “For your first try, hold onto me physically to help you understand the feeling. Now lean out of your meditation and into your bunk— but don’t let go of me mentally. Keep a grip on my mind as well as my hand.”

“Okay.” He felt like he was balancing on the thread that stretched between them. “Whoa! I’m gonna fall!”

“You’re safe, Son. I won’t let go. Now, look.”

It was like hanging over the edge of a cliff. He peered down, clinging to his dad, and he could see his bunk. He could see the _barracks!_ He could see the lights out and doors closed. He could probably go outside if he—

He snapped back suddenly. “Ouch! Wow! Okay… that was cool. I guess they can’t hear me.” His fingers were white from clutching that metal hand so tightly.

“You’re not as loud as you believe.”

“That’s what everybody wishes.” He kept their fingers entwined. “Your new skin feels good. Or… is this not… real? I’m getting confused.”

“You’re confused because you are hovering between reality and the dream-world we call meditation.” Anakin sighed. “Very well, I surrender. Focus on me again. At the same time, I will focus on you with specific intent.”

He balked. “What does that mean? What’s your intent? What’re you gonna do?”

“Luke, it is my heartfelt hope that one day you will have a padawan or a child and learn what it is to be the _focus_ of so many questions. Trust me and pay attention!”

“Awright, awright! Sheesh.” He locked his eyes with his father’s. It felt like he was drowning in blue water, being sucked into a well so deep—

_Hold on to yourself._

_Easy for you to say._ But he tried to split his mind in half and—

_Good._ “Feel my hand.”

“Why?” He looked down to confirm that their hands were still locked together.

“Because I said so! Don’t look— _feel.”_

Luke stared over his father’s shoulder, pretending he couldn’t see their hands. His dad made an annoyed sound.

“You’re using your physical senses instead of your mental ones.” His dad broke their grip.

“You let go! How am I supposed to—”

His father’s hands framed his face. Instinctively, Luke relaxed into the touch that felt warm, almost as if it was pulsing with blood. He reached up and brushed his fingers against the hands, then covered them with his own. Everything felt _real_ — or as close to real as it could be, he supposed.

But there was something else, another level of sensing, that was both strange and deeply familiar. Instinctively, Luke slid his hands across his father’s face. Skywalker flinched, but controlled his reaction quickly. This new link was partly healing like they’d done before, but there was a layer beneath it, buried deeply in his mind. Luke released it, uncertain what it was until Anakin’s mind scooped it up with unnerving greed.

_Healing._ But healing inside, not outside. In his father’s… heart? His soul? Or was it his own? He couldn’t separate them. All he could sense was that they were both hurt inside and had been for so long. Maybe since their births. But his father was different— he was born with a flickering light and coveted by something malevolent, a blackness that planted its seed and nurtured its offspring. Luke reached for the thing, waved a bright beacon, dared it to leave and not look back. His father’s mind grabbed him, curved around him like his dream-baby self had curled into his father’s protective embrace. 

Anakin let out a sudden, shuddering sigh, and it parted them. “You see?” he murmured shakily. “You did it. You learned that you can feel the things you See. And now it is simply a matter of practice. We will work on it every time we meditate.” Two thumbs stroked down his cheeks before Anakin freed him.

Luke returned the same affectionate gesture, but dropped his hands only as far as his dad’s shoulders. “But there was something else. Did you feel what I felt? I thought I touched inside you somehow. Or inside me.”

“Yes.” The head shook. “I… need to contemplate what you did. We shouldn’t… we should wait before we try meditating that deeply again. You always want to take a step too far, my son. In everything.”

He rubbed his dad’s shoulders, then his hands drifted the length of the arms before pulling away. “Okay. But we’re definitely doing that again.” He could feel wary happiness emanating from Anakin and this time decided to take a step back. _I don’t ALWAYS go too far, Dad_. “Is this _really_ meditation? Shouldn’t it be different? Like sitting cross-legged and closing our eyes and thinking about nothing?”

“Most of what we do is meditation by absolutely no one’s standards. Generally we visit instead of meditate. We talk.”

“And I do most of the talking,” he admitted ruefully, yet with no small amount of pride.

“Of course. That’s because I’m a man of action, and you’re a man of words.”

Luke gasped, trying to feel insulted. But he couldn’t because his dad called him a _man!_ “What? Are you saying—”

“Words can be as potent as any weapon, Luke. Use them wisely.” Anakin smiled. “Now take us out of here. It’s past time for you to be asleep.”

“Okay. I hope you were all right with going to the Temple.”

“It was interesting for me.” His father paused. “Although I was more interested to learn how little my past actions distress you.”

He didn’t know how to respond. Maybe there was something missing inside him, too, A hole where a piece should fit. Maybe neither of them would ever ‘fit in properly’. Maybe neither of them was _right_ somehow.

“We’re more alike than you had realized,” Anakin observed.

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You may think that I’m like you, but _I_ think _you’re_ like _me.”_

“Perhaps. Now stop fretting and sleep, little one.” Fingers brushed his forehead, this time feeling unreal, like a mild breeze. “You are fine.”

_Fine._ Not much of an endorsement. He wouldn’t mind brooding about it for awhile, but he was so tired and his pillow was so soft and he kept hearing _little one_ and _man_ alternating in his head.

“Same to you, Dad,” he murmured before he fell so quickly into sleep that it seemed he’d been that way for hours.

# # #

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Part 11, to be continued in Part 12.  
> Three chapters of The Truth: Interludes follow this chapter.  
> [”The Truth: Interludes, Chapter 11, Parent Incoming”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578542/chapters/67237489)  
> [”The Truth: Interludes, Chapter 12, Baby Jedi”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578542/chapters/69238632%E2%80%9D)  
> [”The Truth: Interludes: Chapter 13 A Child of the Force Can Dream Too” ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578542/chapters/69400428)
> 
> Thanks for staying with the story, and I hope you’re enjoying it! 😘


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